Bruins and Rebels
by MrSchimpf
Summary: Paris·Jess, alt S4 with Jess spin-off, rated PG-13. Paris decides to attend UCLA instead of an Ivy League school, and tries to make it on her own without her friends in the Golden State. A story about the trials and tribulations of a new girl in Westwood.
1. New Legacies and Goodbyes

**Title:** **Bruins and Rebels | Chapter One | New Legacies and Goodbyes  
Author:** Nate  
**Pairing:** Paris/Jess, and some couplings with the ancillary characters introduced in later chapters.  
**Spoilers:** The big one would be the Jess/Milo spin-off series, which takes the Jess character to Venice, CA with his father. Otherwise it's unlikely I'm spoiling any of the upcoming plots. The earth-shattering and horrible news from _The Big One_ is included and a major factor in the story, along with a tiny spoiler from an upcoming episode. See if you can guess what it is ;).  
**Rating:** PG-13 so far.  
**Disclaimer:** Still waiting for my Liza clone I asked for a year ago, and it's doubtful the woman herself is about to come to sleepy Sheboygan, WI and ask for my hand in marriage (note to self; campaign mayor to start huge movie studio so he can lure the Knee Goddess out here). Amy Sherman-Palladino, Hofflund-Polone, Warner Bros. Television, and whatever newer companies are involved with the spin-off own the Paris and Jess characters, I don't.  
**Archiving: **Usual suspects; FF.net and LWL. Make sure to ask if you want to archive it yourself.  
**Summary:** After the fallout from the bombshell that is Paris' rejection letter from Harvard, she reexamines her life and decides to move to the Golden State to start anew at UCLA in the fall of 2003, to the shock of everyone she knows in central Connecticut. Meanwhile Jess moves to Venice, CA to reestablish his relationship with his father, and the twain meet one sunny September day in Santa Monica. It all develops from there.  
**Author's Notes: **First of all, this is 100% Paris/Jess, Dipperness served in its purest form. Rory's not suddenly going to appear from the middle of nowhere and ask for Jess back, Jamie and Paris are no longer an item, and I'm not dealing with any other show characters besides these two and maybe Jimmy Mariano (Jess' father), along with Rory, Madeline and Louise through phone and internet conversations. So you've been warned.  
  
You maybe asking yourself, 'But Nate, no way would Paris ever consider UCLA, it's too far away and it's not elite enough for her tastes.' Believe me, I took that into mind, and comparing pre-CSPAN meltdown Paris to her attitude afterwards, it's entirely possible she'll develop a complex against attending any Ivy League school after Harvard has snubbed her. Reading the few spoiler snippets, it wouldn't be prudent in canon, but Paris attending UCLA can work. I've thought about this fic idea since the announcement of the spin-off, and tried to not fall into the _Felicity_ syndrome where Paris would chase Jess to LA just because he did something cute or ridiculous like signing her yearbook. With the way the show writers set up the Harvard spurn though, they've done that dirty work for me, and I can concentrate more on the development of their relationship than the semantics of setting all this up.  
  
Thanks so much to Kitty, Chris and Ash for inspiring me to write this in the first place. Kitty for telling me it's completely possible for Paris to attend UCLA, and Ash for writing _Hotel California_ and helping this idea finally come out of hiding during the 30 minute bus commute to work earlier today. Chris, a certain conversation towards the end of the chapter is all your fault, but thanks for the inspiration. Oh, and betaing for me too.  


* * *

  
Paris Gellar looked up towards the front gate of her new home for the next four to six years of her young life, wondering why the long, strange trip of the last seven months had taken her here to the edge of Westwood, California instead of the storied and long-admired streets of Cambridge she expected to spend her late teens and early twenties walking back and forth on between the buildings of Harvard University. But here she was, instead of realizing the dream of being Paris Gellar, Harvard Freshman, about to walk onto the quadrangle of the University of California-Los Angeles.  
  
Of course, being a Harvard student had been Paris' new year's resolution every year since she was eight and coherent enough to know that Harvard didn't have a mascot, but a color instead. As soon as she was born, Harvard crimson flowed through her veins like it was the only thing driving her towards her goal. It was her Gatorade, the stuff that drove her to make sure everyone stayed the hell out of her way on the way to the guaranteed slot in Harvard that came with the Gellar bloodline. It was in the thousands of hours of charity and community service projects she did, and the many essays and hand-aching speeches she wrote to guarantee that spot in Harvard history.  
  
On February 28, 2003, she lost the crimson in her veins. She also lost her composure in front of an audience 300 strong in Grand Hall, along with just under a million people watching on CSPAN the celebration of Chilton's bicentennial. A rant directed at Chilton's administration, the Harvard board of regents, and her family later, she was crumpled up into a ball in Rory Gilmore's arms, lamenting about the loss of her dream, and thoughts about how her loss of virginity ruined it all for her. All the Stars Hollow girl could do was comfort her and tell her that eventually things would sort out, and that Paris' consummation with Jamie wasn't the root cause of the rejection.  
  
And that they did two weeks later, when the two girls threw all their Harvard memorabilia into the Founder's Bonfire at the Stars Hollow Founders Festival. The highlight of both girl's nights had to be seeing Rory's Harvard acceptance letter crumble into a fiery ash right before their eyes. It was not only cathartic, but the end of an era for the both of them. No more fighting for the attention of the old guys and women in Cambridge with projects that seemed to get even more ridiculous every day. Rory would comply with her grandfather's wishes and decide to head the 40-some miles south to New Haven, and become a Yale Bulldog, not Harvard due to the horrible treatment her friend who should've gotten in received in their hands. Paris was still undecided though.  
  
Rory's words about starting her own legacy that night spun in Paris' mind for the longest time. She had applied to many other colleges just in case the unimaginable happened, but all of them were Ivy League schools. All of them did accept her in the end, no way were they going to let a Chilton valedictorian head to a competing school, they fought over her like rabid dogs, wanting a newly-minted bitter Harvard applicant in their fold so they could promote the hell out of her in their admissions materials.  
  
However she had kept another letter hidden deep within a desk drawer since she received it in mid-January. A glowing acceptance from UCLA, and the letter went on and on about how honored they'd have her change coasts and scenery to become a Bruin backer. She shoved it into the drawer immediately, knowing for sure she wouldn't ever need to respond to a college so far away from Hartford. She hadn't toured the campus, but some other Harvard wannabes had slandered the campus five miles from the Pacific as unacceptable and unworthy of such students as themselves. These same people would diss any university with initials instead of a full name though, so Paris deduced that they could say the same thing of notorious party school Florida State and not have to change their opinion.  
  
So the letter stayed deep in the pile as Paris considered other schools like Brown and Columbia, maybe even Princeton to be around her boyfriend Jamie all the time. But that changed when Jamie had a yelling match with Paris over her outburst at the Bicentennial. He claimed he was embarrassed to have bedded such a 'overbearing, neurotic and egotistical bitch', and that he thought when he had sex with her, it would mean something much more than an excuse to pass off the Harvard blame.  
  
The black eye he got after a profanity-laced dumping on the girl's part pretty much ended the wedding bells talk for Paris and Jamie, along with any college considerations south of a line along I-78 in New Jersey, which killed both Princeton and Penn in the process.  
  
She remained unimpressed with any of the rest of the Ivy League schools. Cornell was a very boring school in a very boring town, and "if I wanted to go to a dull school in a dull place, I would've applied to North Dakota Tech," she would say to Rory as they left the dull burg of Ithaca. Both Dartmouth and Brown were way too close to Harvard for her comfort, and the farther away from Massachusetts Paris was, the better, the last thing she needed was murderous tendencies against Harvard's dean to take root in her mind.  
  
Columbia in New York impressed her, pretty much until the point she was mugged in broad daylight in front of two NYPD officers in a crosswalk at 116th and Broadway. They never did catch the thief of Paris' pocketbook, and the hundreds of dollars spent replacing every card and item in her new purse seethed Paris so much that she wrote an angry letter to Mayor Bloomberg asking for more police protection in the Columbia area.  
  
She loves the photo of Mike Bloomberg he mailed back as a 'response'. It's pinned to her dartboard to aim at whenever stress needs to be dealt with.  
  
That left one college, the foregone conclusion of traveling with Rory to Yale and continuing to build up their newly-blossoming friendship once again. She toured the campus, found it to her liking, and was pretty much ready to sign on the dotted line to become a Yalie, the pen held in her hand to say 'Thank you Yale, I accept.'  
  
But something in her mind bugged her to take a second look at the envelope laying deep in the drawer, beckoning for her to read on and perhaps lure her to Los Angeles. She read through the included materials, including the brochure, class selection guide, the offered tour bus of the UCLA campus in early summer, and the special bonus 'tourist in your own town' guide put out by the Santa Monica Visitor's Guild, which wasn't odd considering the jewel at the end of old Route 66 was about five minutes from UCLA's Westwood campus.  
  
She found three things wrong though, not the most imposing issue being the fact she was a girl going to have to make it on her own in LA. There was that whole smog factor, and the fact that everything wasn't as close as it would be if she stayed in New England. Paris imagined her routines dying as she started highballing Starbucks coffee by the day, and having to breath in that 'clean So-Cal air' almost no one talked about. She also dreaded the long commutes that were sure to be made up to UCLA's Pasadena libraries so she could check out more detailed study materials, and the long ride back to West LA. _It's probably not the right school for me_, Paris thought to herself after a long surfing session at ucla.edu, and she went to bed thinking she was going to get up and announce her intentions to go to Yale at a party for family and friends her mother had planned for the next night.  
  
Rory's advice about starting her own legacy continued to haunt her though, and Paris found sleep lacking as the images of UCLA came to her like a high-speed slide show. She imagined herself arguing about various theories she had with the famed professors of the state college, and taking in sports that actually meant something way in the upper decks of the Rose Bowl and Pauley Pavilion, though to be fair she was doing her schoolwork in her seat as the crowds watched the Bruin football and basketball squads pound cross-town rival USC. She dreamt of never having to put on a heavy winter coat again to trudge back and forth between Chilton and her car into the unforgiving cold of a Connecticut winter, but instead just starting her Jag convertible right up and coasting along the PCH, wind in her hair and trying to find that quiet study nook with a beautiful ocean view near Santa Barbara. The freedom of letting her hair down and letting new people into her life without having to devolve back into her 'Chilton Queen Bitch' persona was something that was making her decision easier to take.  
  
But the deciding factor was something so small, no one, including Paris herself, might have ever considered it a factor at all, much less something that would decide her fate for the next four years. And that was the only goddamned way UCLA would ever shut down for a day is if The Big One happened to hit and destroy the campus. Paris had read the data, and had assured herself that she had a better chance of having a child in the next three months than of ever having to take a day off from school ever again, it was highly unlikely an 8-Richter earthquake was going to hit LA while she was being schooled there. The evil of Paris' world had been the ever-present snow days of Chilton, of which there were three or four per year. She would end up repeating them at Yale, and those were always her most unproductive days. She hated snow and cold, and to not deal with it in Los Angeles, it was easy to come to a conclusion.  
  
"That's it, I'm going to UCLA, try and stop me world," she mumbled confidently to herself as sleep decided to reappear, and she was out like a light in moments. A very small factor, but a big decision nonetheless.  
  


* * *

_The next evening, Paris' college commitment party.  
  
_"Excuse me young lady, you're going where to college?" Sharon Gellar gasped, as the attendants of the party, including her ex-husband Harold, Paris' tag team of friends Madeline and Louise, and Rory looked at the blonde, stunned at the magnitude of her announcement.  
  
"I've decided it, and I found UCLA to be of my liking, so I shall be starting there with a journalism major in September," she responded back to her mother tersely. Paris knew by now not to try to start a fiery argument with her mother in front of the other 50 party guests gathered in the Gellar Manor greenhouse/natatorium.  
  
"But Paris, you talked us out of even applying there back in junior year, why are you going there?" The question from the raven-haired Madeline was one of the few times her hidden intelligence had shone through. The daughter of the Lynns was planning on going back to her childhood home of Seattle and attend the University of Washington at the urging of her biological father, to rekindle the lost relationship they had when Mrs. Lynn received custody of Madeline and fled with her to Connecticut when she was nine.  
  
Paris hesitated for a moment, then proceeded to answer her friend. "Madeline, I just feel that I can do much more with my life, and I won't be able to do much of it in New Haven. There's nothing but you two and Rory to stay here for, and we're going to be spread out all over the country anyways after we start our universities. Louise is going to Miami, Rory's in New Haven, and you'll be in Seattle. I've just reached a point where I feel I need sort of an academic vacation, and there's no better place to take it than Los Angeles. I'll be fine Madeline, it's just a matter of getting a better commuting car and adjusting my biological clock to Pacific time, it's an easy change."  
  
"The hell it is!" Mrs. Gellar blurted out rather loudly. "Paris Eustacia Gellar, you have an academic tradition to maintain in the Ivy League, and I'm not letting you continue it at a state school, in California of all places!"  
  
Paris turned to face her mother, and anger was sparking in her eyes. "Mother, there is nothing you can do to stop me. I have a trust fund set to be opened this June, and that will more than cover me, no matter how long it takes to complete UCLA. There's no loophole you can use to steal the money out from beneath my nose, and I have a sizable estate to inherit when Father passes on, but even without it, I'll still have about $30 million from the trust fund so that I'll live quite comfortably. It would be in your best interest to not interfere in my college choice Mother, lest I decide not to be generous with my inheritance and not support you through old age!"  
  
She glowered at her mother, and walked around her, letting her know she meant business. "Give it up Sharon, I'm not you, and I'm never going to be you. I've gotten over my snub at the hands of Harvard, and I'm moving on and starting my own legacy. If that means moving to the Golden State and attending a state school, a school many kids would kill to be in like Harvard, so be it. At least I had the fortitude of sneaking all those applications out from under your nose so that just in case Mommy's Harvard dream for little Rissy didn't come true, she still had a fine choice of schools to weed out and attend."  
  
"This is your rebellion, isn't it young lady? You don't get your way and you do this to spite me, well it's not going to happen with me in charge of your life honey, I'm calling Yale and telling them--"  
  
"Thanks, but no thanks." Harold decided to get between Paris and Sharon before they could trade blows, and took his daughter into his arms, smiling and crying at the same time as he hugged the hell out of his offspring. "I'm happy with you Paris, whether you go to Harvard, UCLA, ITT Tech or the auto body college on Farmington Avenue. You're 18 now, and you aren't my little girl anymore. I'm very proud of you for deciding not to continue with an outdated family 'legacy', and it's my high hope that you'll come back here at the end of May 2007 a very mature and proud young woman who has not only given our name the respect it deserves, but will create a branch of the family tree that is unique and all your own."  
  
"I love you Par, no matter what you do, and don't you ever forget that." He brought her close, and it reminded Paris of the tight and loving bear hugs she shared with her father when she was younger. She felt confident now, and not only that, loved.  
  
"I love you too Daddy," she said looking up at the man who had raised her to be a strong and independent woman. Sharon could only resign herself and try to accept the fact that Paris was going to UCLA, and she was powerless to stop it. She could only hope to convince Paris that Yale was better, but Paris wasn't having any of it, so much so that by the end of April, Sharon had finally given her only child the blessing to go on with her newly-laid college plans.  
  
Paris arrived back at Chilton after spring break, serving after-school detentions for about three weeks due to the embarrassment she caused Charleston with her ill-advised choice of bicentennial speech. It was just a matter of her and Rory fighting Francie's numerous usurpation attempts at trying to stir up student government the rest of the way, and graduation seemed to arrive in a blur of activity. All that Paris would remember by the end of her senior year is offering Brad a truce and sharing a dance with him at Prom, and that Rory's boyfriend Jess had dropped out of Stars Hollow High, was attempting to reconcile with his father, and moved cross-country with him, Oregon, Idaho, one of those states in the west.   
  
Rory had become quite emotional at the loss of her second love, but pretty soon the feelings of abandonment were replaced of those of _c'est la vie_, that Jess wasn't bound to be her one and only, and they would be better not as a couple, but as just friends. The decision was made easier when Luke finally came out and admitted his feelings for Lorelai right in front of Nicole and Alex one night in the diner. The elder Gilmore and Danes had been inseparable ever since, and any thoughts of Rory and Jess being 'kissin' cousins' were quickly buried into the dark recesses of Stars Hollow history.  
  
She didn't even have a valedictorian's speech to commit to memory, as the detentions had dragged her GPA down to a hair above 4. In a surprise that shocked all of Chilton, Madeline, the self-proclaimed ditz of the class of 2003, had the #1 grade for her four high school years. It was so stealthy that she had gotten so many A+ grades that Madeline even checked with Charleston to make sure her grade wasn't a mistake. The Lynn family's lack of reading Chilton progress reports proved that grades were just something to get and forget, and not dwell on.   
  
It set up the strangest valedictorian's speech in all of Chilton's 200 years, where Madeline used pop idols, figures from 'oddly enough' articles and soap opera stars to inspire the graduates instead of the usual colloquies involving Keats and Whitman. However in the end, Madeline managed to sum up the point of her speech quite nicely, which was popularity means nothing in the real world and the only way to get ahead in life is to work hard and plan for the unexpected. Paris, Louise and Rory gave the girl a standing ovation along with the rest of the class, and the raven-haired girl glowed as she got over any jitters she might have had in public speaking. Before that, everyone might have thought Madeline wasn't going to amount to much. After the speech, the tide in thinking was changing that she was going places, and they were prepared to not dwell on the fact that the school's gossipmonger had become the valedictorian so unexpectedly.  
  
Paris and Charleston had made up in the last two months before graduation, and they hugged as she prepared to receive her diploma, wearing her hair down and the graduation gown of Chilton blue fitting her loosely.  
  
"I'm going to miss having you to kick around Miss Gellar, there's never been another student like you, and there never will be again," he whispered into her ear as she received the reward of attending his school for the last twelve years.  
  
"As long as another girl doesn't have a nervous breakdown to announce her loss of virginity at the 250th celebration or play Romeo in a class production, I think my legacy as a Chilton student is solid," she responded back with a smile. The Headmaster held back a laugh, and sent Paris on her way back to her seat onstage as outgoing student body president. She was very proud to see Rory as the class salutorian, and couldn't help but cry at the realization that for the next four years, she wouldn't even have the small-town girl to confide in or partake in verbal sniping in person except during school breaks and summer vacations. _Looks like a job for the internet and a cell phone_, she thought to herself, there was no way she was about to lose contact with her best friend in the world, even across a continent.  
  
The next two months after Paris threw her mortarboard into the June air of Keney Park's natural bowl were another blur as she made the plans to move her entire life from her girlhood home into a 12'x12' dorm room in Los Angeles. Which meant that a lot of things that might have come with her if she stayed in New England would have to be left home, she planned everything out so that United Van Lines would only have to move one truck filled with her things out to California. Her bed and most everything in her room except for her computer would remain, along with most of her clothes.  
  
Paris knew that there was going to be no way her wool sweaters would stand a chance in the California heat, and she started the acclimation process of wearing non-plaid skirts and t-shirts around in public instead of her previous dark-colored wardrobe. Louise and Madeline relished Paris' change in clothes of course, so Louise, as sort of a farewell outing, immediately authorized a high-ticket spending spree at the department stores of Manhattan and Short Hills, New Jersey for the Chilton Three. And this time, Paris had to be open to whatever fashion decisions the girls made for her when it came to outfits. It was that or having to drink 20 glasses of water a day to replenish the perspiration she'd have if she kept her old wardrobe.  
  
Paris not only came back to Hartford smiling at all the new outfits she had, but at the rekindling of her odd kinship with Louise and Madeline. She had gotten them both into college, and with that goal completed, she could focus on just being girly with them until they all went their separate ways in mid-August. By the time the three and Rory had gathered at the Gilmore house on their last evening before departing for college, Paris was more relaxed and easy going than she ever had. She had lifted nary a finger for any charity or service club over the summer, and spent almost everyday sleeping until 11 in the morning, taking advantage of the fact that there was no admissions board to impress or schmooze with.  
  
Still, Paris couldn't leave Hartford without one last plan that left the three girls with a bemused look in their eyes, as if Paris was nuts.  
  
"I say that before we leave, we coordinate it so that we're all driving in a straight line down to New Haven on 91, saying goodbye to everyone on a conference call we'll make with our cell phones. Rory will take her exit into the Yale area first, and we'll look on as she takes that exit out of childhood." She pointed at Madeline and Louise, who were whispering something to each other about Paris planning out their entire lives up to their cremations. "As for you two, I'll continue following you two up until Louise has to exit south of Scranton, Pennsylvania to head down the Eastern Seaboard towards Florida. I and Madeline then will follow each other and stay a night in downtown Chicago, where we will say our goodbyes, and she'll head north on 90 towards Seattle, while I start traveling whatever various interstates get me through the Midwest and Rockies and into Los Angeles. I considered the whole 'I'm gonna retrace Route 66 and rediscover America' crap but then realized, why would I want to do that, I mean they turned most of Route 66 into expressways, and where it wasn't it's all kitschy and cute and annoying. I'm going to have enough culture shock to deal with in LA, so the less time it takes to get there, the better. So, how does that sound girls?"  
  
Rory's mouth was hanging open, Louise was feeling weird, and Madeline was thanking her lucky stars that she had the foresight to have her father pick up a Bradley to Seattle plane ticket a couple weeks earlier.  
  
"Paris, has the LA weather started getting to you even before you've arrived?" Louise asked, taking a nail file off the coffee table and rubbing it against the heel of her palm to test the roughness.  
  
"No it hasn't Louise, I just wanted to say goodbye at the most opportune time is all."  
  
"That's why we have this one last sleepover Paris, to say goodbye," Rory huffed, annoyed, yet not surprised at Paris' unique way of leaving them for the next four years.  
  
"Besides Paris, you do have the longest drive to deal with, 2 days cross-country, the last thing you need is to be distracted on your cell phone," Louise mused.  
  
"But what about you Madeline--"  
  
"I already have non-refundable airline tickets Par, I can't turn them in anymore."  
  
Rory then asked the question that was just begging for an answer. "Paris, are you already feeling like you're going to miss us all?"  
  
The blonde sat Indian-style across from her three friends, and tried to keep her composure up. Even though each member of her peer group had some kind of trait that drove her up a wall, such as Louise's guy-gushing, Madeline's absent-mindedness at inopportune times, and her rivalry with Rory, she had to admit to herself that she was going to miss seeing the three girls while she was alone by herself in Los Angeles. There was no west coast branch of the Gellar family, and there was no telling if anyone on the UCLA campus was going to endear themselves to the girl like the three girls sitting in front of her somehow did.  
  
"I may not say it guys, but I'm going to miss all three of you girls the moment I cross the Hartford County line, it's going to be so abrupt not having an everyday friend anymore. I've known you Louise since we were four, and though you can sometimes be such a tough friend, we've always depended on each other when it came to things like sex, all those crazy girl things back in puberty and that you still had the outlook of your average teenage girl, while you let me hyper-focus on school and my studies." Both girls got up at the same time, and hugged for the first time for what seemed to be eons. "Louise, I pray that Miami goes well for you, and that you can lure a Heisman quarterback into loving you. You better wear SPF 45+ sunblock when you're studying physics on South Beach in your bikini, or else I'm coming there and kicking your ass girl."  
  
"And I hope that you get yourself a nice tan in LA Par, that was the only reason I did those outdoor home projects with you, it guaranteed me a nice dark complexion," Louise said smiling at her longest friend.  
  
"Now that's the Louise I know, always finding a shallow excuse to get some charity points." She lightly tapped Louise on the wrist, and let go as Madeline approached her. "Ahh, Madeline, who would've guessed all this time me and Rory were fighting a fruitless battle for the valedictorian slot when you had it sealed up for so long? All I have to say is if you stay this stealthy no one's going to notice you're in the White House 'till it's too late."  
  
The raven-haired girl blushed and giggled back. "I guess some of those pesky study techniques rubbed off on me Paris, and it helped that there were a few dates where I spent more time on Einstein's theories than I did thinking about which base I wanted the guy to run to. At least Brad's gotten that gig at that small theatre company in Pioneer Square, Seattle has an excellent drama scene." Her and Brad had started dating a couple months ago after she found herself drawn to the red-haired offspring of a taxidermist. At first, Paris and Louise thought the girl had taken some mind-altering medication that caused her thought processes to whack out. Paris' theory died however when she walked in on the two of them ready to rip their clothes off in the cloakroom after a very hot tango they somehow managed to finagle Charleston into letting them do at Prom.  
  
"Enjoy the time with your father in Washington State, and geez Madeline, give poor Brad a break. I may harp on him sometimes, but even a 'sexual dynamo' as you call him needs a break sometimes," Paris joked. The interesting positions those two had gotten themselves into had been the talk of the Chilton gossip mills, and there was a rumor out there that Brad and Madeline had an impromptu 4am performance on the stage of the Winter Garden a couple weeks after graduation, thanks to Brad's stage credentials on Broadway.  
  
"I'll try Gellar, but that damn Space Needle is just calling out to me and Brad for a very hot PDA. I just hope a arts and design degree from U of W has the same weight later in life as those at a specialty school."  
  
"I wouldn't sweat it Maddie, your work for the fashion houses will speak more in the end than the name of the school on the diploma."  
  
Madeline smiled back, Paris' Harvard reality check had finally taken away the girl's stubbornness of guiding her friends into going to Sarah Lawrence. She then yawned and wrapped a blanket around herself, preparing to curl up in a sleeping bag on the carpet of Rory's floor. "Thanks Par, well I'm off to bed. Have to get up at the crack of dawn for the damn flight out of Hartford, stop in Indy and Denver and transfer planes each time before I get to the Emerald City. And all this on a sickly little diet of cashews and seltzer water." She sighed and rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. "Is that any way to run an airline?"  
  
"25 years ago it wasn't, but today traveling by air feels more like being packed onto the Tokyo subway system than a trip on the QE2. See, if you would've listened to my plan Mads you could make the trip as pleasant as you wanted." Paris smiled smugly at her charcoal-coifed buddy. _Take that girl_.  
  
"Get outta here before I decide another pillow fight's in my system Gellar," Madeline responded with a snaggle-toothed smile.  
  
"Fine, fine, I'm going, I'll talk to you around the holidays Lynn, don't forget your raincoat by the way." Paris walked out of Rory's room, and headed towards the living room couch for her last night of sleep as a true teenager. She was already starting to wear the light blue and yellow colors of her alma mater, as she sported grey sweatpants with UCLA printed down the pants leg, and a blue t-shirt with an image of the bruin mascot on the front. She lay on the couch and rested her head on the pillow next to her. Rory walked into the room, and Paris brought her legs closer to let Rory sit next to her on the couch.  
  
"God I can't believe this Paris, tonight's our last night before we leave for school," Rory said brightly as Paris took her small pearl earrings out and placed them on the coffee table. "I never thought we'd ever get to this point, at least with me alive."  
  
"It's just so weird Rory, both of us were supposed to be on our way to Cambridge tomorrow, it was part of both our big plans for our lives. I even had the day colored in on my calendar, and it was the first thing I put in my Palm when I bought it two years ago. But now, I don't even want to look at or hear anything about the school, what they did to me was just so incomprehensible. I mean you even agreed that I deserved Harvard more than you, right?"  
  
"Yeah, the way you were that night you walked in to give the speech was just the worst thing that could've ever happened to you, it was such a devastating moment. Do you think that if UCLA didn't work out and Harvard did want you again, you'd reapply?"  
  
Paris glared, giving Rory a look as if to ask what the heck she was thinking when she thought of the question. "I have three words for everyone at Harvard; bite my ass. If they didn't feel I was good enough for them the first time, they should've said so during the application process to save me grief. And to let me know in that cold impersonal way like that pathetic little note, when I just about had my own admissions counselor in Boston since I picked up the brochures when we were sophomores, it got to me. The guy didn't even have the balls to call me and warn me rejection was coming, he actually read my goddamned rejection letter before it was sent in the mail! If Harvard wants me back, I have a nice long nine-page syllabus/essay ready to be sent to admissions which profiles all my sacrifices for the sake of their pathetic little school, along with CSPAN screen captures of me that night of the bicentennial, and a little section on how pathetic they are crawling out of a hole just to want me back. I end it with a nice hearty 'Fuck you Harvard, thanks for nothing! Cordially not yours, Paris Gellar,' thus assuring they'll stray as far away from me as possible."  
  
"You're sure about this then, UCLA is your school?"  
  
"Rory, I'm set on spending the next four or five years being schooled in southern California, it's as simple as that, I'm not changing my mind. UCLA may be a state school, but it's a damned fine one that the academically elite out west want to get into as much as they do Harvard up here in New England. I know it's going to be tough trying to acclimate to such a new environment, but I'm willing to take that challenge. And when you think about it, a high-stressed girl from Connecticut like me is going to seem much more sane than your average Angelino, with their constant pressure to get things done so fast and to have the biggest of this and that. You can be sure that I'm avoiding the implant district in Beverly Hills like the plague, my breasts are nice and big--"  
  
Rory quickly interrupted the blonde before she could take that sentence and rant any further. "Paris, stop with the breast talk, please! I agree with whatever you're going to say about them, honestly I do!"  
  
Paris held back a laugh, she still loved getting the occasional rise out of Rory, and the panic the brunette got into amused her so. "Sorry about that Ror, it's just my body's going to be judged more in LA since I have to wear lighter clothes. I just hope I don't land in a dorm with a bunch of guys with a breast fetish. I'm pretty stacked, but I won't admit to anyone but you and the other two."  
  
"It's OK." Rory smiled back at Paris, and changed the subject. "You know during the holidays you're going to be expected to bring home souvenirs for all three of us, right?"  
  
"Yes Gilmore, I'll try to get you a little snowglobe with the Hollywood sign in it so you can decorate your dorm up a little more, I might even get some weird little thing for Lorelai, I know how she treasures the monkey lamp as if it's like an Ellis Island trunk or a really old sewing machine." She noticed the stare Rory was giving her. "And no, I'm not sneaking some tequila-spiked coffee from Tijuana, don't you give me that look Rory. I'm not even going down there."  
  
"Mom would be begging you to get it if she was here."  
  
"No, she would be begging for Luke to give her his 'special blend'. You'd think being 35 and in love would've meant they had lower sex drives, but no, there they are making out like teenagers over the counter while poor Caesar has to pick up all the slack and act like a babysitter so they don't race upstairs and resolve their 'customer service grievances' with a little 'service with a smile'."  
  
"Eww, Par-is, dirty!" Rory wrinkled her nose in disgust at her spins on innocent foodservice industry terms.  
  
"What, it's the plain truth." She shrugged and stretched her legs out, wanting to get some sleep before she got on the road the next day. Rory got up and stood above Paris.  
  
"And I'm glad that they're going to be realizing that plain truth out of my sight."  
  
"At least one couple I know is finally getting the point, my mother and father give new meaning to the term 'love-hate relationship'. Take a letter Rory that I'll have to lock those two in the wine cellar one of these days ala that episode where Krabappel and Skinner have to resolve the strike in that manner."  
  
"Too bad you can't major in _Simpsons_ references at UCLA or there's a class for it, all those reruns you watched on Fox 61 are your dirty little secret there Paris. Never thought you put off schoolwork for an hour every night to watch that show 'till I walked in your room that day."  
  
"_The Simpsons _is just about as religious cult, a couple of ministers even wrote a book about the spiritual references made in the series, it was a pretty nice read. If it wasn't already in storage down in LA I'd lend it to you for a between classes time waster."  
  
"You can just mail it to me Paris, I'll be sure to mail it back with a book I recommend. We can start our own little personal Netflix thing, only involving books instead of DVDs."  
  
"Hey, that's a good idea Gilmore, see that's why you kept me sane over these last few months, you're the one with the good ideas."  
  
"Well without you I may not have experienced the wonderful scent of burning crimson fleece and pennant fabric at the bonfire, you're the one who came up with the idea of cleansing us of all things Harvard."  
  
"I had so much fun doing that, although I should've thought twice about throwing the CD-R's we burned of our application essays into the fire, not a good stench if you asked me." Paris wrinkled her nose, and covered herself with the afghan draping the back of the couch.  
  
"No, not one of our best ideas ever Paris. Speaking of noses, don't forget your piercing." Rory smiled and pointed at the small diamond stud on the left side of her friend's nose, which Paris had gotten in a need to have some kind of pre-college rebellion after the Harvard rejection.  
  
"Oh, thanks Ror, that's going to be a pest to make sure to take out every night without someone reminding me." Paris held her nose closed, and took the nose ring out, putting it off to the side with her earrings. She had it pierced at a disreputable parlor in Bristol one day in April just for the heck of it, and it ended up infected. Still, she warmed to keeping the piercing after some good comments about how she looked with it from her friends despite the problems with it in the first two weeks, and went to a Piercing Pagoda and had it hygienically repierced with a sterile nose ring to go with it. The only problem she found with keeping it was that the pole of the stud would tickle her nose when she went to bed, so she would be kept up and have sneezing fits if she didn't take it out before bed.  
  
"So, what time are you leaving the house tomorrow, I'm sure just a little later than Madeline."  
  
"Well, I want to get dressed and showered by around 8, and I'll probably stop in Greenwich for some breakfast before I get on the road and try to make it to Chicago before 9 tomorrow night, I'm not going to drive straight through to LA. I may even have to deal with an extra day beyond the two I have planned out, so if I'm tired after the long boring drive through Iowa and Nebraska I have a bed at the Westin in Denver waiting for me. From there it's just a matter of getting across the Rockies and Sierras into California."  
  
"Long boring drive through, too bad you can't play punch buggy or road sign bingo on the way," Rory joked as Paris went through her itinerary.  
  
"I downloaded a bunch of audiobooks from the web onto an MP3 player, and there's always the XM radio I had installed if I need some music or run out of books to listen to. As much as I'd love to be immersed in local radio, Clear Channel's homogenization of the airwaves pretty much assures that the playlists will be the same whether I'm in Phoenix or Des Moines."  
  
"Well I hope you have a fun trip to LA Paris, and you don't have a sore butt by the time you reach Westwood. I'll be sleeping in 'till noon, so I can say goodbye to Louise, then me and Mom are off to New Haven to spend our last day together, I'm letting her sleep on the floor of my dorm tomorrow night."  
  
Paris shook her head, and smirked at Rory. "She's actually holding you to that promise, who would've thought." She got up, and prepared to say goodbye to her former enemy and combatant, and now best friend. "Well, you know I'm not much for the teary goodbyes complete with Kleenex and the hugging over and over until you finally tell me to get out of here an hour later, but I'm going to miss you so much Rory. UCLA's not going to be the same as Chilton, our whole rivalry kept me on my toes for three years, and even through all that crap we went through with Tristan and Francie, I never did hate you Gilmore, and I don't think I ever will."  
  
"Hey, you forgot to tell me where him and Francie are going."  
  
"Well I know I heard back from Tristan a few weeks ago, he's out of military school, doing great and decided to stay down in North Carolina, he's going to UNC in Chapel Hill. He's had a steady girlfriend for six months and I think his days of dating anything with a pulse are long over. As for Francie, she just barely got into UMass. Seems all those mindgames she played with us interfered with her ability to finish homework and dragged her GPA down, so she lost the acceptances she had at Georgetown and Maryland. It's sweet justice, isn't it Gilmore?"  
  
"Very sweet, I hope she can handle the pressures of a bottom of the barrel state school."  
  
"It gives me a pleasant feeling that her Puffs connections couldn't save her ass from ending up at a place without a sorority connection. I see her in jail in a few months for stealing a keg from the local liquor store in a desperate attempt to get into Delta Kappa Alpha or some other club that involves Greek letters."  
  
"I hope Lemon and Tangerine have enough bail money to get her out," Rory said as the she got in one last crack at the expense of the Puffs. "Paris, I'm going to miss you so much, and without your interference while I was at Chilton I would've never even had a shot at Harvard, much less Yale. You'll write, right?"  
  
Paris brought Rory closer, and hugged her tightly. "Every two weeks Rory, I promise. You keep yourself single for the next few months, you hear me? You promised me you'd go stag and focus on your studies, boys have been nothing but trouble for both of us."  
  
"I can pretty much expect you to be the only single girl in La-La Land, right Gellar?"  
  
"I think the remarks we made towards the TV with Lorelai during a _Blind Date _marathon pretty much showed I have a heavy disinterest in the dating pool of Los Angeles. If I do find a guy, it's fine with me, just as long as he doesn't interfere with my studies."  
  
"Still, I hope in four years down there you find some guy, Jamie lit up your life for a few months, and a second relationship is always the most exciting, at least in my opinion."  
  
"It's either that or turn to lesbianism," Paris mused aloud, causing Rory to abruptly end the hug, a bemused look on her face. Paris's eyes widened at what she had just said. "Oh, not with you Rory! I'm just saying I do have some latent gayness lurking within me somewhere, I have a strange thing for Angelina Jolie."  
  
"I have a thing for Angelina too Paris, every girl does, it's like a biological requirement to want her, even if you have an XX chromosome." Rory rolled her eyes and prepared to walk out of the room. "Hell, I'll admit to wanting Madonna if she wanted me."  
  
"Hey, I didn't ask for a summary of girls you'd sleep with," Paris said, then laughed at the absurdity of the whole subject of dormant lesbianism. "I'd sleep with Sheryl Crow myself, don't know why except she has hair to die for and she's pretty good-looking for an older woman. Well, that and she has a voice that makes men and women want her so much, I wonder what she's like whispering--"  
  
"OK, stop before the image of you and her kissing permeates my mind forever!"  
  
"Too late for me Rory, now I have a picture of you making out with Madonna in her _Like a Prayer_ period, thin slip dress and all, thanks a lot."  
  
"Oh God, Paris!" she groaned. "This conversation better stay between you and me, I'll kill you if you mention this to Lorelai. She's going to make fun of me if she finds out I want to do Madonna."  
  
"Fine, but if you tell Maddy or Lou about my secret lust for Sheryl, I'm telling her."  
  
"OK then Paris, goodnight and I'll talk to you in a couple weeks." Rory smiled at Paris, and the blonde returned the smile.  
  
"'Night Rory, and don't forget," she started singing. "_Just like a prayer, your voice will take me there_."  
  
"Arrrrggghh, Paris..." Rory muttered her way into her room, cursing the revelation of her crush on Madonna. _Well Paris and I always knew how to say goodbye so uniquely_, she thought as she crawled into her bed for the last time as a high school student.  
  
"I'm going to miss pissing her off, Rory's always so funny when she's irritated with things," Paris said to herself as she lay back down on the couch, bringing the afghan close to her body. She smiled as she shut off the light next to her on the end table, then she shut her eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep. The last night the four girls spent together at the Gilmore home winded down, and after tomorrow, fate would be the only thing guiding Paris for the next four years.  


* * *

_The next day...  
  
_Paris left Stars Hollow around 7:30, about a half-hour earlier than she planned. The excitement of getting to Los Angeles was starting to sink in, and as she started her iPod and played a MP3 of great American poetry, prepared for the long drive to the Pacific coast. The Jaguar's back seat was packed with things she felt she would need, and the trunk was full of the things from home she couldn't quite fit on the moving truck. Her itinerary was set in stone, and there was no turning back now.  
  
Earlier the day before, she had said her goodbyes to the staff at the Manor and her Portuguese-speaking nanny Francisca, who now with no child to dote on was moving back to Lisbon with the sizable amount of money she had saved over Paris' 18 years of existence. Her mother actually took it harder than she thought, and hoped her daughter would be fine in 'the scary big city'. Despite their off-kilter relationship, Paris was going to miss her mother. But she definitely wasn't going to miss her trying to control her life. She was her own woman now, and damned if anyone was going to change that.  
  
As she drove past the state line between Connecticut and New York on I-95, it was just the strangest coincidence that Robert Frost's most famous poem was the next track on the poetry MP3.  
  
"_I took the road less traveled by,_ _and that has made all the difference,_" was what Paris heard as the 'Welcome to Port Chester, NY' sign whizzed past her.  
  
"God, I hope so," Paris said to herself as she got over the shock of the poem being the one she heard as she left her home state. "UCLA better be a good road." She then brought her focus into concentrating on the morning rush traffic into New York City, and how she could get onto I-80 and into New Jersey without encountering a backup.  


* * *

_To be continued...  
  
_**Next chapter: **Paris arrives at UCLA and prepares to settle in, but has to deal with her first hurdle, a roommate who doesn't seem like an intelligent woman to deal with at first glance. The girl thinks the same thing about Paris, and they have to sort out their first impressions before they can start getting along. 


	2. Cheerleaders and Socialites

**Title:** **Bruins and Rebels | Chapter Two | Cheerleaders and Socialites   
Author:** Nate  
**Pairing:** Paris/Jess, and some couplings with the ancillary characters introduced in later chapters.  
**Spoilers:** The big one would be the Jess/Milo spin-off series, which takes the Jess character to Venice, CA with his father. Otherwise it's unlikely I'm spoiling any of the upcoming plots. The earth-shattering and horrible news from _The Big One_ is included and a major factor in the story.  
**Rating:** PG-13 so far (although there's some description of a sexual act, it's tame though.)  
**Disclaimer:** Amy Sherman-Palladino, Hofflund-Pollone and Warner Bros. Television along with the newer companies involved with the spin-off own the Paris and Jess characters. _Jeopardy!_ is from Merv Griffin, King World, and Sony Pictures Television, I'm just using the show for storytelling purposes.  
**Archiving: **Usual suspects; FF.net and LWL. Make sure to ask if you want to archive it yourself.  
**Summary:** Paris settles into life at UCLA and in the dorms, and meets her roommate for the first time. Both Paris and the roommate learn blind first impressions don't really last all that long.  
**Author's** **Notes: **I'm surprised by the amount of positive feedback I got from the first chapter of this, thanks so much you all. And to answer a concern from a reviewer about the Paris/Rory latent lesbianism conversation they shared, I realize not every woman wants Angelina Jolie, but it was meant to be a joke between Paris and Rory, and not a reflection on the entire female sex. It's also an in-joke among my fic buddies, and the opportunity just presented itself to fit it in within the plot of this story. And Jayta, the reason I had Jamie be dumped by Paris like that is I don't really like the character and just want him to go away. I didn't want to write one line of dialogue for Jamie, but I had to give Paris some reason to leave him, thus his line.   
  
If you're trying to picture Paris' roommate by the way, think of Mila Kunis from _That 70's Show_. She's Jackie in case you need some reference. I think she's kinda cute and very smart, so I decided that she'd be a perfect foil/college buddy for Paris.  
  
Onto the second chapter then, keep reading and reviewing, 'cause it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy. Thanks to Ash and Chris for betaing for me once again, I don't know what I'd do without you crazy girls :).  


* * *

"Look, like I said to that other annoying guy over at the First USA booth, I already have enough credit cards, thank you. I don't give a damn if it has the UCLA logo on it, your stupid Visa has an insane interest rate and a late fee that would be illegal in my home state! Not to mention your cards target low-income minorities who really need to be taught to save more than they should be racking up a bill in your irresponsible manner. Teach them all how to spend wisely and maybe I'll reconsider."  
  
"But I'm offering you a free MBNA traveler's mug with the UCLA football schedule printed on the side just for signing up, what could you lose if you already have a sterling credit record ma'am?"  
  
"I said already I don't want one. There's a handy thing called the web to find out when the Bruins next play the Ducks, and I can pick up a mug just like yours for $2 at 7-Eleven, and fill it to the brim for just 50¢! What part of no don't you understand?!"  
  
"But it has the logo--"  
  
"I don't really care if the card is made out of gold with a diamond-encrusted hologram, I don't want any card offered here on campus! Now kindly quit following me you lowly gnat or else I'll mace you and report you to the FTC for harassment!" Paris tore herself away from the perky woman offering her a college credit card, and groaned as another man, this time from CalFed tried to lure her into signing up for a frequent-flier's Mastercard. Thankfully she saw him before he could approach, and Paris used her evil stare on him, along with her most terse voice.  
  
"I don't travel, I don't rent a car, and I'm not about to start buying my groceries on credit, so don't even utter a word about how convenient your card will make my life unless you're hungry for a knuckle sandwich." _Don't these idiots realize I'm not about to drop this box of books just to get a card? _Paris thought to herself as she tried her best to avoid the famous gaggle of credit card tables that seemed to permeate university quadrangles at the beginning of each school year. She knew from other students that the banks were downright predatory when it came to signing new customers, but not **that **horrible at trying to rope her into extra credit she didn't really need. It was not only annoying but unneeded, couldn't anyone have seen she was already well to do?  
  
Finally past the circus atmosphere of the quad, Paris made her way to her new dorm, as she carried a small yet heavy box of textbooks she had picked up at the campus bookstore, along with the instructions and equipment to hook her PowerBook up to the school's WiFi network. Her feet ached in the open-toed sandals she wore to make the trip over after she parked her car in her building's parking lot, and she was thinking that she would definitely need the help of Dr. Scholl in order to stay on her toes at UCLA, so to speak. She was very thankful she had the foresight of ordering some of the heavier texts online and having them stored in LA before she left Hartford, and felt that the $65 shipping and handling charge she incurred was worth every penny.  
  
She arrived back at her dorm at the Saxon Suites a few minutes later, after negotiating some hilly terrain and learning the hard way, that there was a reason Los Angeles was the city where a car was a requirement rather than an option.  
  
"Room 343, 3-4-3, 343," she said to herself as she walked into the front foyer of the building, and made her way over to the bulletin board where she'd find out if she was going to have a roommate or get the dorm room all to herself. Finding the sheet on the board with room assignments, she scanned the paper up and down until 343 popped out at her. Discovering the listing, she read it aloud to herself.  
  
"Ahh, here we are, 343, shared room. Paris E. Gellar, freshman, and Brianna M. Daugherty, freshman." She gasped at the name, and rolled her eyes. "Just great, I have myself a real winner in the brain department. I'll have to get used to her constant _Bring it On _DVD viewings and tripping over her pom-poms, Brianna is such a cheerleader's name." Thoughts in her mind that she'd need to make sure to talk to housing after she settled in about a roommate change, she shoved her way past the students walking and running their ways back and forth in the hallways and ended up at the elevator, digging her key ring out of her pocket and trying to be as prepared as she could for when she walked into her dormitory for the first time.  
  
Meanwhile, another girl overloaded with baggage and duffel bags shoved her way through the wide entrance doorway, and struggled to keep her bags balanced as she made her way to the same bulletin board Paris had looked at moments before. The curly-tressed girl with black hair dropped all of her stuff on the ground, and scanned the assignment sheet for her room number.  
  
"341, 342, 343...OK. I'm sharing a room with a Paris E. Gellar, hmm." She wrinkled her forehead and imagined what a Paris type girl would look like. Suffice that the image that came to her head was not positive. "Oh crap, I have a daddy's girl in my room. Guess this means she'll be making herself scarce because she's an average LA slut who loves the eye of the camera. And if she's in, I don't even want to imagine what whacked things she has planned like orgies and drinking parties." She curled some of her long jet-black hair around her index finger, and tried to figure out the best way to introduce herself. "Hey, I'm Bree, hope to see you around a few times--no, too vague. I'm Brianna, but you can call me Bree if you'd like--What am I doing, hitting on her?! Damn, this is going to be harder than I thought." She kept mumbling to herself about introductions to Paris as she took all of the bags she had back into her arms, and started for the four-floor climb up to her dorm room.  
  
Paris made her way through the crowded fourth floor hallway, trying to avoid the pesky men and women who were soon to be gone for the Greek houses along Sunset and Wilshire, along with the RA whom she met a few hours before and tried to be 'a friend' to her. The only thing that meeting had done was convince Paris that there wasn't much needed aptitude or intelligence needed to become the RA of a residence hall floor.  
  
"Hey Doug, catch!" Paris soon found herself in between two dimbulbs tossing a football back and forth between 318 and 319. "I'm open Ronnie, go deep!"  
  
Paris was starting to seethe, and she wasn't going to get to her dorm with these two throwing the ball and blocking her path. She dropped the box of books on the ground, gave the box a hard shove on the carpeted floor to attempt to get the box past the two dorms. She then walked towards the two guys, and after Ronnie followed through on his throw, she lept up into the air and intercepted the ball.  
  
"What the hell you?!" Doug screamed. "I was trying to catch that!!"  
  
"Why don't you just catch my drift Mr. Quarterback; don't play ball when I'm around, I'm not happy when you do. Stay out of my way Doug, I'll make your life a living hell." She tossed the ball back to Doug, bent down and picked up her books, and continued on her merry way down the hall, leaving Ronnie stunned. Doug on the other hand decided to enjoy the quick show Paris was providing him by bending down to pick up the box.  
  
"By the way you have a nice ass honeybunch!" Doug yelled towards Paris. She rolled her eyes, groaned, and quickly returned fire at her first sexually crude comment ever in college. "Horndog, get a life, or a blow-up doll!" Her voice reached Doug's ears, and he quickly backed off and continued with his across-the-hall classic with Ronnie.  
  
The foot traffic started thinning out around Paris, and she was relieved to find that room 343 was an end room in the southeast part of the building, complete with close staircase access to the campus and her car nearby, making the moving in process more palatable.   
  
Thankful that a bed was just a few feet away, she unlocked the door to the dorm, opened it up, and placed the box of books she had just hauled across campus onto the kitchen counter off to her right, which had an open kitchenette. The room was more like a studio apartment for two people rather than a dorm in the traditional sense. There were three areas of the main room, the kitchenette on Paris' right separated a little with a peninsula counter, then a large two bed sleeping area on the side farthest away from the door, and a small little corner for a 19" TV, with a built-in long desk for Paris and Brianna's computer equipment to the left. There was a cramped little bathroom around the corner from the kitchenette, it featured a shower/bathtub, toilet and sink, not much else.  
  
The room was better than Paris expected. It was painted a sterile peach like all other dorm rooms, but it had character to it, Paris could think of a thousand ways to make the room homey. And she couldn't beat the view outside her window, with a beautiful panoramic view of the UCLA campus, and to her right facing the window, a small peek beyond a grove of palm trees and homes of the distant Santa Monica skyline. _It's not the manor, but I can get used to this_. It was already more than any Harvard dormitory could ever have, most of the rooms in Cambridge were limited to shared cramped corners where a floor common room was the main entertaining area, and a small computer lab had to be carved out of several rooms. A small amount of dorms even had shared bathrooms. Slowly, Paris was just now realizing how many shortcomings she'd have if she stayed in an Ivy League school.  
  
She kicked her shoes off next to her bed, the farthest from the window, and collapsed onto the bare mattress, worn out altogether from what had ended up being a four day trip cross country. One of those freak August snowstorms in the high Rockies that occasionally close the mountain passes stranded Paris in Denver for two days, and by the time she got back on the roads and out of Colorado she had to sleep in a Las Vegas hotel her third night due to exhaustion from so much driving. She also cursed that she didn't bring along an extra change of clothes with her, so she ended up having to do her laundry in a St. George, Utah laundromat, wearing her robe as she washed all the clothes she brought with her on the drive west. No way was she about to comply with an average male's fantasy of walking into a coin laundry and finding a girl wearing nothing but a smile or at least a bra and panties throwing Snuggle sheets in the dryer.  
  
Her mind wandered off into the first LA rush hour she had ever experienced. She was used to the hell of driving into Boston around the Big Dig quagmire, and traffic into downtown Hartford could sometimes test her patience, so she thought that was the worst traffic that could be thrown at her.  
  
Dealing with the six lanes of backup on the Santa Monica between the 101 and the Harbor Freeways south of downtown LA though was enough to drive her to vehicular homicide.   
  
One jackknifed semi in the eastbound lane should've been a non-factor to the westbound drivers, but an hour later, Paris was still honking her horn like a madwoman trying to get the traffic in her lane moving again. "What the hell, do you get horny at the sight of a car wreck like in the movie _Crash_, move it you peabrains!!" she screamed, as the soundproofing in her Jaguar was tested to its limits. Sick of waiting to get to her new home, she peeled across five lanes and exited at San Pedro, driving through downtown until she hit Wilshire and a direct route to the college. She finally arrived at UCLA around 2:30, a day and a half later than she planned.  
  
Paris was tired and worn out, and even in her old grey Chilton gym shirt and jeans, and with no sheets or pillows at all on the bed, the first thing she needed was sleep, and lots of it. She was feeling so unmotivated from the summer, and didn't want to go down to the storage place just to pick up a blanket and pillows. And because the air conditioning for the room had to be set up by each individual pair of students in each dorm room, the cool blast of air she was expecting when she walked in never came because the temperature hadn't been set up. If she had a dorm alone she would've just taken off her clothes and lay there in the hot room, but figured that Brianna wouldn't be very pleased to be greeted by the sight of her roommate in her underwear.  
  
She was about to settle herself in for a quick nap, when she heard some banging outside on the door.  
  
"What the heck?" she said to herself, and wondering why she forgot to stop at her car to at least pick up her self-defense bat. Cautiously, she approached the door tentatively, and brought those tae kwon do lessons from the 8th grade to the front of her mind, just in case.   
  
"Who's in front of my door?"  
  
"Who are you and what are you doing in my room?" the voice on the other side asked.  
  
"Your room? You must be mistaken, this is my room," Paris responded, incensed.  
  
"Is your name Paris Gellar?"   
  
_Gee, I don't know, let me check my driver's license. _"That's my name."  
  
"Is it safe to come in?"  
  
The girl behind the door was starting to irk her. "Yeah, I don't have anything unpacked yet."  
  
"Well is there a guy in there with you doing lines?"  
  
Paris' eyes just about popped out of their sockets. "WHAT??!! I don't do drugs, or have sex with any guy that walks by."  
  
"But your name--"  
  
That was it, Paris was at her wit's end. She threw the door open, and shocked Brianna by starting on a ramble. "Listen here missy, my name is not my fault, blame my mother on that one. I've only had one sexual experience in my lifetime, and the only drugs I've ever done are named NyQuil and Vivarin, and even then only during exam time, I also do Lactaid in case you're interested. I'm trying to get somewhere with my life, and if my suspicions are right, you're the Brianna listed next to me on the dorm assignment sheet."  
  
"Why yes, I am--" she started talking meekly, but Paris interrupted her before she continued further.  
  
"Thought so. Listen here cheer girl, if you expect me to be happy with your peppy lifestyle and to take listening to bad techno all day as you practice your annoying little routines as you spread eagles and pyramid or whatever you do, you're dead wrong. It's girls like you who drag the rest of the female sex down to a level equivalent to Burmese sweatshop workers, here most of us try to make sure guys are the weaker sex, but you girls with your Justin Timberlake, Barbie doll pom-pom loving overpowdered faces are trying to keep us down, it's no wonder we're not all wearing 17 layers of dresses and still going to finishing school thanks to women like you." She sneered the last words. "Slutty cheerleader."  
  
Brianna couldn't believe that Paris was laying into her the moment she walked into the room. All she had wanted was help with her bags, but instead got a lecture on women's lib. She hesitated and calmed herself down before she said something she might regret. Walking into the room and laying her bags right next to the door, she walked the distance over to her bed, sitting across from Paris, and very unhappy with how the girl had introduced herself. Brianna's blue eyes stared into the blonde's deep browns, and she prepared to take away all of Paris' misconceptions with two simple sentences.  
  
"I'm sorry, you're calling the runner-up in the 2000 _Jeopardy! _Teen Tournament a cheerleader? Interesting, seeing as I loathe any girl with a short skirt, tight breast-filling sweater and a peppy attitude that ever walked passed me." She took a look into the window, and then faced Paris once again. "I'm pleased you share my opinion of the cheerocracy Miss Gellar, and I'm flattered you think I'm pretty enough to pass for a cheerleader. However if I ever do inexplicably decide to join the Bruins squad, I give you power of attorney to assist in my suicide, seeing as I have lost my mind."  
  
"Um, _Jeopardy!_?" Paris now had the problem of having lack of speech. "So you aren't a cheerleader?"  
  
Brianna held out her hand. "Brianna Daugherty, valedictorian of the class of 2003, Antioch High in Antioch, California, near Oakland. And you would be?"  
  
"Um, Paris Gellar, 3rd in my class of 2003, Chilton Academy of Hartford, Connecticut." She shook the girl's hand, and couldn't believe it. "You're kidding, valedictorian?"  
  
Brianna smiled back proudly. "Sure was, out of a class of 610, I was the #1 student, with honors. I worked my butt off for twelve years to not only please my parents, but to chase a dream." She looked up at Paris apologetically. "I'm sorry, I thought you were a druggie heiress with loose morals, your name had me thinking of Paris Hilton and her sister Nikki."  
  
"I'm honored," Paris responded, smiling back. "I was born just around the time the fair Miss Hilton and her twin sister were brought into the world, and my mother knew theirs. Sadly Mrs. Hilton suggested the advantages of naming a child after the French capital, thus I was saddled with the same name. They were my playmates for a couple years, but then the Hiltons moved their summer home away from the Connecticut side of Long Island Sound, thus they're just a blur in my life. But thank God because the way they party and that whole messy association with Lizzie Grubman keeps me far from even considering renewing our friendship."  
  
"Any other famous people you know?"  
  
"Not really, I keep to myself most of the time and have a small circle of friends. The closest one is Madeline Lynn up in Seattle, and my other two friends, Louise and Rory, are in Miami and New Haven, respectively. I also have a former crush down in North Carolina I haven't seen in a couple years, but I'm not into him anymore."  
  
"I see," Brianna nodded her head and looked up at the ceiling. "My friends are spread out too. My best friend Lara is just starting Georgia Tech, Ellie is attending Kentucky and Kaitlin, the second in my class is at Harvard."  
  
Paris sucked in a breath at the mention of her dream school. "Can you say Boston instead Brianna, I'm not a big fan of that school anymore." She frowned, and looked down at her bare feet.  
  
Brianna quickly understood why Paris didn't want the H-word mentioned around her. "Oh God, I'm sorry Paris, I didn't know--"  
  
"It's OK, that's one of the reasons I decided on UCLA, because it was as far away from Harvard as I can possibly get. I worked hard to get into that school for so long, and they turned me down..."  
  
Brianna looked deep in thought as Paris described her rejection, trying to remember where she had seen the girl in front of her before. _She's familiar to me, but I don't know from where or how, hmm." _ Finally, it dawned on her.  
  
"Are you Paris as in 'I confessed I lost my virginity and announced my rejection on live TV during a speech looking like crap' Paris?"  
  
Paris gulped rather audibly, and returned her gaze to the floor. "In the flesh, you were watching C-SPAN that night?" she mumbled.  
  
"Well I was channel surfing and came upon some girl bitching about how Harvard had screwed her over and that she deserved to get into it because of all her hard work. Once you yelled 'I had sex, but I didn't get into Harvard,' my face was red and I was going 'that poor girl, I hope she'll live'. And then you were pointing to the other girl in the speech and talking about how she was getting in 'cause she hadn't gotten any yet, and she was just dragging you off stage in an attempt to save your dignity. I can't believe that you were that girl, holy crap!" She looked down at the girl across from her, hopeful she hadn't opened up old wounds. "Did I make you mad Paris, please say you're not ticked off."  
  
Instead Paris looked up at Brianna once again, and smiled. "It's not my most shining moment in the sun, but looking back it was pretty funny. That was Rory who was my speech partner, she was my rock through that whole rejection thing. Lo and behold she did get accepted to Harvard, but she was just so pissed off at Harvard rejecting me that she wanted nothing to do with them at all. Her grandfather was pushing for her to go to Yale, so she decided to go there instead, and we had fun using her town's bonfire to burn anything Harvard we had in our possession. Funny thing was two years before she was my most loathed enemy, and now we've become fast friends. The whole school competition thing, you know?"  
  
"Yeah, I know how that feels, me and Lara were kind of hateful back in ninth grade. She had just moved to Antioch from a small town in Stanislaus County, and I hated her the moment she stepped into my school because she was one of those innocent girls who got the good grades and the acclaim. I wanted to hate her because she wanted to get into Stanford as bad as I did."  
  
"You wanted to get into the Harvard of the West?" Paris asked. "Your dream school, wasn't it Bree?"  
  
Brianna frowned, really not wanting to get into the story of rejection, but doing so anyways for the sake of Paris. "Ever since second grade that was all I thought about doing, was getting into Stanford. I did the whole charity thing, ran Student Council and the multiple committees, did everything I could possibly do to fit as many community service hours into my life, I even had a pretty good volleyball career going 'till I pulled my hamstring in a JV game, so I quit that because sports was becoming such a burden. It didn't help that my parents wanted nothing but Stanford for me, they quashed down my at least looking at the University of San Francisco just in case I did get rejected. I got the rejection letter around mid-February, and didn't emerge from my room except for school for about two weeks after. I mean I had a guy at Stanford who knew me by name and saw my rejection letter, yet he didn't have the courage to break the news to me."  
  
"I was devastated beyond words, and the worst was yet to come. Lara did get the invitation to Palo Alto, and here I was without even a safety college to depend on, and to make it worse, my mother decided to try to talk to the chancellor about getting me in. Of course that went rather disastrously, and I was put on the unofficial blacklist for schools in the Bay Area. My counselor rescued me from getting stuck in community college by sending in a last minute application to here, and my scholarship winnings from _Jeopardy! _made it easy for UCLA to accept me. They weren't really my last choice in any way, but it made me realize that I shouldn't work myself ragged just to get into a school like Stanford. I consider this year to be more of an academic vacation and a chance to recharge than my first year at a major university."  
  
"Me too Bree, I mean I had applied to all the Ivy League schools, but inexplicably I decided that I needed a couple safety schools east of the Appalachians just in the rare case that all of them rejected me. So with all the others I sent in applications to here at UCLA and BYU. I didn't expect BYU to accept me because I did end up violating their strict moral code, and saying I did the deed on national TV kind of ruined my chances with them. But I didn't expect UCLA to be so accepting of me, and when everything came down, I was just in this big funk where I wanted things to change, and I didn't want to live up to my legacy of the Gellars stubbornly sticking to Harvard and the Ivy League anymore. It just happened to come along at the right time, and I just felt that if I moved to California, things will change for the better."  
  
"So we could both say that this year is going to be more play than work?" Brianna asked Paris.  
  
"Yeah, I could say that, but I'm not going to let my studies go, this is UCLA after all, not Michigan State."  
  
"I hate party schools, they just focus on their stupid basketball teams and don't give a damn about their academics. UCLA has some good teams, but it still has a good academic tradition at least." Brianna sighed, as Paris looked on at her new roommate.  
  
"You know," Paris said, trying to broach conversation. "I do remember watching you in the teen tournament finals that year Brianna, you were pretty good for someone like yourself, and I thought you were easily going to win the last round and take the car and the larger scholarship. I noticed in that last episode though, you were really distracted. Don't wonder why I can still remember this, but your mind was somewhere else. What happened to you that day?"  
  
Brianna stood up off of her bare bed, and paced the room, trying to figure out a way to answer the question. Apparent to her was that she had so far won Paris' trust, and with Paris' embarrassing incident on national TV, she figured if she decided to tell the story of her _Jeopardy! _tournament, that they could relate to each other so much more. She made her way towards the kitchen area, and the petite woman boosted herself onto the peninsula counter. She stared at Paris with grave seriousness.  
  
"Now Paris, if I tell you what happened, will you promise not to breathe a word to this story to anyone you meet? The only two people who know about this are my mother and father, and there's a reason for that."  
  
"Ooh, sure Brianna, who am I even going to tell anyways? I don't know anyone at all here." Paris walked into the kitchenette and sat atop the dishwasher.  
  
"Cross your heart?"  
  
"Crossing it tightly," she said, a trusting tone to her voice. "Now tell me."  
  
Brianna stared out towards the beds as she told the story of her very unique experience on one of America's most popular game shows. "Well the whole tournament thing had started out really well, I was photogenic and smart, exactly what the producers were looking for when I tried out in San Francisco. So they paid my way to Philadelphia, where the college and teen tourneys were held that year. My mom and dad were so proud of me, and I couldn't be happier to be representing lil' ol' Antioch on _Jeopardy!_. Anyways, the first two rounds went pretty well, I creamed all five contestants I took on, I figured it had to truly be such a weak pool of students. They were getting the gimme categories all wrong, and somehow they managed to screw up on the daily doubles, I mean one girl decided to risk it all on a question involving some obscure Polish philosopher. I didn't get a daily double at all, but somehow I managed to do pretty well in both games, first one I scored $12,500, and the second I made an amount plus a dollar bid, so I had $11,901. As for the semi-final, I was unstoppable, $14,563, I had this aura around that no one was going to get in my way and beat me."  
  
"But that all changed when Leonard Sharpe came along."  
  
Now Paris had known that Leonard was a third-podium player when he came into the 2000 tournament, and had barely eeked out second place scores in each round. The tournament system of winners first, high scores second seemed to be against him, but somehow his $17,000 second place total in his second game seemed to hold through the quarterfinals, so he got third podium once again in his semifinal, which was separate from Brianna's game. The other two contestant's quarterfinal and qualifying games were games they ended with under $10,000 though, proving that they really weren't the smartest. Leonard ended up taking his semifinal, and along with him, Brianna and the second place contestant from her game were set for the finals.  
  
"Now I remember the scores from that game Brianna," Paris said as she tried mining her mind for the numbers. "You had the highest score of all nine episodes, so you got podium one, while Leonard got the second, and Sheynhar number three. But somehow, Leonard took it all with a $17,750 score, while Sheynhar got around $7,500. But you, who had the podium one advantage, had a lowly $4,000 score before Final Jeopardy!, which was so low you had to risk all $4,000 for the second place prize. I wondered whatever happened to you, and what led to such a bad final round."  
  
"Guess," Brianna said with a raised eyebrow.  
  
"You were nervous about the final game."  
  
"No."  
  
"Um, you accidently walked past Alex backstage in violation of game rules, and you threw the game because you might've accidentally seen the big card."  
  
"Try again Paris."  
  
Paris pondered her brain for more possibilities of Brianna's championship meltdown. "The buzz-in button was on the fritz?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"You forgot to put in your contacts and couldn't see the board?"  
  
"I have 20/20 vision."  
  
"Johnny Gilbert mispronounced your name during introductions and it threw off your concentration?"  
  
The girl laughed. "Now you're just getting desperate."  
  
"The categories weren't your strong suit."  
  
"I have an academic brain which can mix many facts, I have many interests."  
  
"OK, one more guess. You were sick on the inside, but didn't show it on the outside."  
  
"All of them were wrong Paris, I'm sorry." Brianna gave Paris a straight answer. "I met Leonard down at the pool in the hotel, not knowing he was in the game at all. He just had this suaveness about him, and he was pretty cute. We get to talking and find we share the same interests and love the same things, and he thought I was attractive. Well, one thing led to another, my hormones were going crazy along with his, and then he says to me 'Want to go up to my room?'" Brianna looked down at her hands and played with her Antioch class ring. "I said yes. I didn't usually date or go out with guys, so the attention he gave me was such a turn-on, he kept commenting about how he'd love to play with my hair, and kiss my plump lips, and that he got lost in my eyes, and how even though I don't have much meat on my bones, I was very curvaceous."  
  
Paris tried to say something, but felt that silence would be best, lest her new roommate breakdown and take her to task for something she said. She just nodded and let Brianna continue. "Leonard was wonderful to me, and he just eased me into everything, sliding my shirt off with ease and starting to kiss down my neck. He made his way down my body as if I was porcelain, and before I knew it, my passionate side came out. I was tugging at his shirt, and winding my fingers through his hair, and fumbling at his belt as we got into...it. I remember everything like it was yesterday, from putting on the condom for him, his lips suckling my breasts, and then when he broke me. I mean God Paris, for my first time and losing my virginity, he was great. I just got so lost in Leonard, and we made love, I made love to him as if I was putting all the passion I put into getting into Stanford into just that one expression. And then the way he said my name, it gave me a shiver of arousal. I fell asleep in his arms, and wished I didn't have to leave his side, I wanted Leonard to be my boyfriend forever. But I knew that he'd be one of those guys you knew was going to be just a one-night stand, so I left his room the next morning telling him I'd never forget him, and I hope we'd meet again someday. He told me that he wished the same, and that he loved me."  
  
"You know how much girls like us just want those three words said to us, so I told him that I loved him too. I was never going to tell anyone that I had lost my virginity to such a great guy, because it was just one of those things you want to treasure for yourself and not ever tell anyone about."  
  
"I get to the auditorium a few hours later, and of course the contestants and Alex are separated until the actual start of the show, but we do get a sheet of what to expect to do for the championship, and the sheet also has the names of the competing players on it. I hadn't been paying attention to the other finals because I'm superstitious, so the two people I'd be taking on in the championship were probably not going to be known to me, except for Sheynhar, who I knew would get in with me because he was nipping on my heels and lost the semi by only $1,400. So I'm looking at it, not thinking much about it at all, when my eyes catch a name starting with L. It gets my attention, and suddenly I'm reading the name aloud to myself."  
  
"It was your lay from the night before of course." Paris felt so much grief for the girl at that moment, and was hoping Brianna could finish the story without starting to shed tears.  
  
"It's OK Paris, plain truth is honest. What I did after that was think that Leonard also did the same thing and tuned out my games, thus he didn't know me at all and we could just chalk it up to some hilarious coincidence that we slept together and competed the next day. But when I got out into the backstage area before they started taping, I found Leonard looking at me with this smug grin on his face. Not the grin of 'fancy seeing you here Bree,' but the Mr. Burns-type that was saying 'Excellent, she's thrown off and my plans are going to work perfectly'. It was so devastating to see that grin was not in appreciation to me, but the only thing he was using me for was to gain a competitive advantage. I tried approaching him to ask what his problem was, but a PA had taken a hold of my hand and took me away from him for makeup."  
  
"Well why didn't you try to tell him what was up, that you didn't want to do the show because he had seduced you and thrown you off?" Paris crossed her arms around her chest as Brianna become distraught at finishing telling her about the tournament.  
  
"Stubborn Irish pride Paris, us Daugherty's just try to suck it up and move on from there. I thought I could easily forget about it, that after the show I could confront him and see if there was an us to salvage. But as they made introductions, he nudges me on the shoulder and goes in this snotty tone 'I hope you had a ball last night, because today's your reality check Brianna'. And this time, when he said my name, he said it as if it was some acidic word that puts a curse on a witch or something. Well that did it, all that work to go so far on _Jeopardy!_ shattered with his words, and as I walked onto the stage and took my podium, I didn't have the confidence I usually exuded. Right next to the guy who had just so shamelessly taken my innocence with him, I couldn't concentrate. I kept thinking of him that night and comparing him to how confident he was answering all those questions. I'd buzz in sometimes and forget the answers, and other times that little plunger on a wire felt like bread dough, and my hands slid all over the button. And when the show went to break, Leonard would look at me smugly and ask if I was sore from the ass-kicking he was giving me. I'd stare back at him and wonder why he didn't go for the obvious little sore spot he aggravated the night before in his bed."  
  
"That smug little bastard!" Paris gritted her teeth at how much she had hated Leonard during the tournament. Her rage against a guy she had only seen on television was building even more, now that she knew the story of why one of the girls she was rooting for to win the car and the scholarship had ended up falling so fast on the stage in Philadelphia. "If I were you Brianna, I would've had that guy holding his groin by the second daily double, what he did was not only horrible, but so violating. I mean you put your trust in this boy, and what does he do, fuck you over like that!"  
  
"Yeah, in more ways than one," Brianna said as she managed a crooked smile. "I would've pressed the issue after the show with the producers and asked that he be disqualified, but I didn't want to seem the cold-hearted bitch that turned such an intimate moment into something big, it took a lot for me to even walk onto that set and face national TV cameras in the first place. I decided to confront Leonard at the hotel once we got back, and we had it out so viciously that my mother had to come in and find out what was going on. I told Leonard to leave and never come back, and he just said 'Thanks for the memories' and left. It was then I finally told my mother what happened, and I fell into her arms, crying my eyes out. I had enough scholarship money from my time on the show, second prize was $25,000, and I didn't really need a car, so I just decided not to pursue action against Leonard and the producers for what happened. I went back to Antioch and didn't tell my friends why I was runner-up, because it was just something that I wanted to put behind me and just learn from as a mistake in life. Things just happen for a reason Paris, and maybe my sleeping with Leonard was something that I needed to learn a lesson from."  
  
"God, I'm so sorry Brianna, you look like a girl any kind of man would kill to want," Paris said to her sincerely as she got off the dishwasher and walked towards the girl, who had tears trailing down her cheeks from telling her story. "Have you even had a boyfriend after Leonard?"  
  
"No, and I have no need for one," she choked out between sobs. "I don't want my heart to break if they decide I'm not good enough for them, it's a pain this girl just cannot take."  
  
"Listen to me Bree, if you mind my calling you by that." Brianna nodded to let Paris use a nickname with her. "Men sometimes don't have the best of intentions, and its clear Leonard was one of them. But if it wasn't for them, we wouldn't be where we are today."  
  
Brianna rolled her eyes. "Paris, I need a pep talk, not a biology lesson."  
  
Paris frowned at herself and how clinical, instead of soothing her words had been. "Heh, sorry, as you can tell, I'm not experienced with the whole 'there, there' reassurance. What I was trying to say is that you're basing your opinion on men on that of your experience, not on the entire sex altogether. Now I may not be your closest friend so far, but somehow I'm sensing that we have a lot in common. We both were rejected by the colleges we wanted to go to, and our first true loves were disasters that we never saw coming before it was too late. I dumped Jamie because he didn't appreciate me announcing I had sex with him on national television, and he didn't care that he wasn't mentioned by name. You know when he asked me out the first time, I wasn't smart enough to notice that he had just asked me to date him?"  
  
"How can you not notice a guy asking you out?" Brianna asked, starting to calm down.  
  
"When you're in zealous competition to cream someone at a debate and have said boy tuned out, that's how." She laughed and placed a hand on Brianna's shoulder. "Bree, I'm not the type of girl who just wants love to come to her in just the snap of a finger. I'd rather wait for the one to come to me, but even then I'm still realistic, a guy isn't getting into my pants unless he's damn near perfect, and he loves me for who I am. I'm just like you, and I can see that rather than being at each other's throats for a guy all the time, we're going to be good roommates, maybe even best friends. Also I can sense that we're both going to be running away screaming from the KCBS Speaker's Corner booths at the malls because we've had embarrassing moments with the airwaves before."  
  
It didn't take long for Brianna's mood to brighten, as her face lit up and she laughed out loud. "P-p-paris, I guess this means where not gonna do a Jennicam-like thing and set up a webcam in the dorm, are we?"  
  
"Over my dead fully-clothed body," Paris responded with snark.  
  
"Good." Brianna climbed down from the peninsula counter, and walked towards Paris. "You know, I think I'm pleased I went with the whole dorm experience now instead of the sororities, I feel like we're going to get along just fine Paris."  
  
"Thank goodness, I wouldn't have liked it if I had to duct tape a line across the room and keep a party girl or guitar guy separated from me. Now I think our only challenge so far is balancing out our individual decorating tastes and how much time we spend in the bathroom each morning. How much of a wardrobe do you have Bree?"  
  
"Not that much, about 14 pairs of pants, 25 shirts, a few skirts and shirts, maybe 20 pairs of shoes and enough delicates. As for bathroom time, I think I'll need the most, about 20 minutes each morning. You don't really need that much makeup Par, I suspect you're spare when it comes to your makeup box. S'OK though, you're pretty without it."  
  
"Aww Bree, you're making me blush," Paris said as she tried to hide her face from Brianna, since she was turning red. "My use of heavy makeup is limited to the few parties I go to. About the only thing I wear daily is a little mascara, lip gloss and just a little powder."  
  
Brianna's smile became wider, and she pointed to Paris' nose. "Oh, and I love the nose ring, let me guess. April rebellion after you needed to do something to make an outrageous statement to your mom?"  
  
"Do you have some kind of scary ESP connection to my brain?"  
  
"Probably, I got my belly button pierced around the same time." Brianna lifted up her shirt a little to reveal the gold piercing jutting from her innie. "Only I did it on a dare from Lara, still my daddy wanted me to take it out. I just convinced him it was better than getting a tattoo or coloring my hair hot green, that changed his mind pretty fast."  
  
"My mother lost four of her nine lives when I walked into the house with the diamond stud in my nose," Paris said to Brianna. "My father was different though. He just shrugged and said 'at least you didn't get a tattoo'. I was actually considering a little Eiffel Tower on my ankle, which would be covered up most of the time, but then I came to my senses when my friend Louise described her experience getting a tattoo of a ladybug on her back, she said that she would never do it again. The artist in her words was 'totally grody', and she said the needle hurt 25 times more than if she just received a simple piercing. So the nose won out, and I won't have to deal with telling my kids why Mommy's little nutty rebellion caused her to have an ugly looking A on her ankle."  
  
"Well I could see someone in Connecticut saying that, but here in California it's a little different. Tattooing is treated more like an art than some underground industry, so there's been some great designs and respected artists, they can go out and be recognized for their work. All of my friends have small tattoos, but I have a fear of foreign objects like India ink in my system, so I haven't had the wherewithal to get one. I'm not going to get it now since my friends aren't here to offer me the support I'd need to get through the whole process, but maybe someday. Probably something as simple as your Eiffel Tower idea, like a clover for my heritage or a butterfly because they're my favorite insect."  
  
Paris decided to reassure her new friend. "If you ever need someone to help you when you decide to go through with it, I'll come with Bree." She smiled and took her hand. "We're stuck with each other for the next year, so we might as well buddy up and learn to go with each other's whims. You're going to have to get used to my overeviewing a test until three in the morning the day before an exam, along with my tendencies to, um...well you already saw me turn a molehill into a mountain with the way I overreacted to you when you came into the room." She laughed nervously. "Sorry about that by the way."  
  
"You're forgiven," Brianna said right back, smiling and getting up. "At least I know I'll have a reviewing partner then, I've been a night owl for a few years, and not even during exam time. TV gets boring after awhile, so it makes me want to occupy my mind with something."  
  
"That's great." Paris surveyed the empty room before her, and Brianna did the same. Their gazes traveled right back towards them. "You know, this room is missing something, namely everything. We better start hauling all our things up here before the Greek pledges decide our cars are enticing targets for their getting-in pranks."  
  
"Probably, I'm not sleeping on an empty bed, and I got an email account that needs checking. Oh, and I gotta catch the SoapNet rebroadcast of _General Hospital_, got some big plot developments coming down the pipeline."  
  
"How can you watch that claptrap Bree, it's mindless eye candy," Paris exasperated, then rolled her eyes.  
  
"Two words Paris; hot guys."  
  
Paris mischievously grinned back at Brianna, it was time to turn the tables. "Now _Days of Our Lives_ and _The Young and the Restless_, those are much better soaps, with actual plot."  
  
Brianna looked at Paris as if she had just announced that Santa Claus wasn't real. "Oh please Par, NBC and CBS are horrid, ABC is where all the great plots are going on. One more word for NBC; _Passions_. Need I say more?"  
  
"Uggghh, I can't believe I admitted to you I watched soap operas. That's about as big a secret as my daily ritual watching of _The Simpsons_."  
  
Brianna smiled back at her. "I'll try to turn you onto the ABC soaps as we unpack, I can help you with your stuff." She opened up the room door wide and put a doorstop below to keep the door propped.  
  
"Sure Bree, I'll be right down, just have to put my hair in a ponytail." Paris threaded her long tresses into her hand. "Oh, and it'll take more than daily _GH _viewings to lure me over to the dark side. Excuse me while I fantasize about Bo taking me on my bare mattress."  
  
"Paris, you are one weird woman," Brianna said, smiling back at her new friend and shaking her head. "Just you wait Gellar, the _GH _bug will bite you one of these nights." She left the room and left Paris alone to put her ponytail in a Scrunci, as the blonde girl looked back on her first meeting with her roommate.  
  
"I think I'm going to like that girl, she's gutsy, clever, and smart. You've just made yourself your first LA friend Paris, pat yourself on the back." She finished creating her ponytail, and walked out of the room to help Brianna move into their dorm. _I'm gonna hook her on DOOL if it's the last thing I do though_, she thought smugly.  


* * *

**_To be continued...  
  
_****Next chapter: **Paris learns the UCLA ropes with Brianna at her side, and ventures out into LA on foot for the first time, trying out the local delicacies at her new friend's urging. As she leaves a restaurant, she bumps into a familiar face, and strikes up a conversation with someone she was looking at with lustful eyes before Jamie came along. Will sparks fly once again, or is it a slow burn that's going to take time? 


	3. Fast Food and Second Chances

**Title: Bruins and Rebels | Chapter Three | Fast Food and Second Chances  
Author: **Nate  
**Pairing:** Paris/Jess, and couplings with the ancillary characters introduced in later chapters.  
**Spoilers:** The big one would be the Jess/Milo spin-off series, which takes the Jess character to Venice, CA with his father. Otherwise it's unlikely I'm spoiling any of the upcoming plots. The earth-shattering and horrible news from _The Big One_ is included and a major factor in the story.  
**Rating:** PG-13 so far (this time there's swearing, sexual innuendo and dirty thoughts. But you expect that with a Dipper fic, now dontchya ;)?)  
**Disclaimer:** Amy Sherman-Palladino, Hofflund-Pollone and Warner Bros. Television along with the newer companies involved with the spin-off own the Paris and Jess characters. Other trademarks are owned by their respective companies. No one, not even Paris, wants to own her style of cooking though, we can be assured of that.   
**Archiving: **Usual suspects; FF.net and LWL. Make sure to ask if you want to archive it yourself.  
**Summary:** Paris finds out that college life can be tough when her professor catches her not paying attention. After that, she goes into Santa Monica on a food run for her and Brianna, and bumps into someone she knows from Hartford. Paris finds herself doing some soul-searching after leaving, and starts to feel conflicted between her new life in LA, and Rory.  
**Author's** **Notes: **Sorry about the delay, but this is one of those long chapters readers of the _Project_ are used to when it comes to me, so settle in and see what develops. I've also been busy with more work than usual while I wrote this story, along with a couple of unexpected writer's blocks. Thank goodness for my new Liza movie _Lullaby_, that got me out of those ruts really fast, especially when it came to a couple of sequences (Liza in a long sleeping t-shirt and no pajama pants + bare legs=my nirvana).  
  
Thanks to Chris and Ash for the betaing (and I'm sure I really did need it this time), and Jamie for finally coming back from India, yay! And Mala for complimenting me on the whole portrayal of backstage at _Jeopardy!_in chapter two, I'm glad it was true-to-life as I wanted it to turn out.  
  
I also hope the IM conversation in the middle of this chapter isn't a distraction, I've tried to learn from other failed 'IM fics' and only use this device sparingly and as neat as I could, I'm not about to picture the girls using 'IM talk' that is prevalent and distracting to the reader (Come on, they're prep school girls, not boy-crazy airheads from your average TRL audience. Paris probably frowns on this whole 'IM English' thing in the first place.) If you feel I made an error in judgment in putting IM conversations in the story, feel free to review telling me you don't like it. It's only an experiment in this chapter, and if it doesn't take well, I just won't use it anymore.  
  
Enjoy the story :)!  


* * *

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!  
  
Brianna woke up out of a deep sleep as her ears received the loud tone emanating from somewhere within the dorm. Trying to open her eyes slowly to prevent light shock, she turned to the right, facing her nightstand, and the big green numbers of her alarm clock, reading 6:45 am. Not used to the sound of the clock she picked up at Walgreens the day before, Brianna pounded down on the large snooze button with her hand, trying to shut off the clock so she could get ten more minutes of sleep. Paris was going to wake her at 7 if the clock didn't get her to rise and shine, and Brianna was still exhausted from the orientation of the campus libraries that she was on the night before, and had run overtime. She didn't get back to the Saxons until 11pm, and had to cook a Hot Pocket and get ready for bed as the already sleeping Paris mumbled in her slumber about working for the Los Angeles Times, and becoming their editor.  
  
Brianna kept hitting the snooze button, but the alarm wouldn't let up, it kept sounding and keeping Brianna up.   
  
"Come on you, shut up, Bree wants to sleep for ten more minutes," she murmured. Her vision fuzzy, she fumbled for the electrical cord connecting the clock to the outlet in an attempt to shut the alarm truly off. Her fingers traced the cord down the line until she felt the back of the nightstand, and the ribbing as the cord merged with the plug. With a hard tug, she pulled the plug out of the wall, and hoped that would be the end the alarm clock's wailing.  
  
All that did however, was blank out the display, and the alarm continued to whine. A very tired Brianna, wearing an oversized Raiders jersey, stumbled out of her bed in a sleepy fog, wondering what was causing that loud noise. _If it isn't the alarm clock, and Paris is already up...  
  
_It took her a couple moments, then she grasped what was happening.   
  
__"Oh shit!"  
  
__She was fully jarred awake as she heard what she thought were the sounds of her roommate coughing and wheezing in the kitchenette area over the real cause of the loud noise ringing through her ears, the wail of the fire alarm lurking above her bed on the ceiling. Her eyes started watering as she realized that a hazy smoke was filling the room, and the source of said smoke was the two-element hot plate Paris had bought at Kohl's two days before because of the lack of a range in the dorm. She stormed across the room with her hand covering her mouth, and made her way to the kitchenette area, where she found the blonde in the same position of panic she was the morning before, hands over her mouth and hyperventilating several "Oh my God!"s.  
  
"Paris, what have I told you about cooking breakfast?!" Brianna screamed above the wail of the smoke detector. "It's nice of you to think of me when you make SoySages and Egg Beaters, but we have plenty of cereal in the cupboards, a bowl of Froot Loops and a glass of OJ fills me up just fine!"  
  
Paris looked down at the burned remains of what was to be the morning meal, and grabbed the handle of the pan so she could run it over to the sink. "I'm so sorry Bree, I thought yesterday was just a fluke and that I was gonna do fine today!" She turned on the water in the sink, and ran it over the pan, wettening the cinders of her second attempt at homemade breakfast for her and Brianna. The sound of a sizzle from the hot pan reacting to cold water sounded from the sink, and Paris kept the water on as she looked the part of a nervous wreck. Brianna ran over to open up the room's window, as Paris somehow found the courage to walk over to the front door and open it up after monitoring to make sure the food in the sink wouldn't catch fire. The smoke detector ended its piercing wail a minute later, as Paris sat in her computer chair, contemplating what went wrong as she breathed in and out.  
  
Brianna came out of the bathroom dressed five minutes later, but in a little shock from the way she was woken up. Her hair a tangled mess, she nonetheless decided that she had to sit down with her roommate and talk to her about when they wanted hot food in the morning, going to the student union or a fast food restaurant on the fringes of the campus was probably a better choice. She sat down on the futon couch in the middle of the room that faced the TV and computer desk, and looked at Paris. But she wasn't mad at the girl, rather she was smiling at her.  
  
"Paris, now I know why you turned down that French cooking school, get you near an open flame or range and you turn yourself into a wreck. Now be honest with me, how did you do in home ec?" Bree was laughing, as Paris tried to keep her stubborn pride up.  
  
"Well you see Bree, my teacher--Er, well I did good with cold food--My mother encouraged me..." Paris couldn't keep it up anymore, and looked forlornly towards the carpet below. "Oh fine, you got me, I was transferred out of the class after six days when one of my projects not only stunk up the classroom, but started afire the moment I opened the oven. My headmaster gave me a special waiver to take a out-of-school community project for the home economics credit and gave me a study hall in place the class, so I got an A even when I should've gotten an F. Probably with a minus after the F. He didn't want to see me break down over getting an F, so he accommodated me that way."  
  
"I got the F," Brianna admitted as she chortled back her laughter. "I was the worst damned cook in the history of Antioch Jr. High! I lost a role in a _Leave it to Beaver_ play that my drama teacher was directing because everyone was picturing me as June Cleaver burning down their TV house when we were rehearsing, my teacher finally took me out of it. After that my nickname was Firestarter. I was so scared of cooking after that I stuck to macaroni and cheese, ramen, and anything microwavable, which is why I was so against the hot plate. I guess my intuition was right, wasn't it Par?"  
  
Paris finally looked back up at Brianna, and smiled back at her roommate as she ran her fingers in her hair. A small smile managed to eek it's way onto her face, and she was finally calmed down enough to form full sentences again. "Very right, my cooking days are over for now. I say we take classes at the Learning Annex when we can find some time during the evenings, I'm sure they have many more fire extinguishers than we could ever have Bree."  
  
"So what was your thinking that you would've done better with the cooking thing now than you would've in Chilton Paris?" Brianna asked as she grabbed a brush off from her side of the computer desk and started to run it through her hair.  
  
"I don't know, who knows what I was thinking? I mean I've been an independent woman for just a week, and I feel like I have to play the part. Thus I've had this weird urge to cook, even though I've been raised on private chef-made food since I was born. I guess my mother passed on the lack of aptitude at cookery onto me, and I've just now realized it." The last of the hazy smoke fled out of the window, and Paris looked towards it, the sun casting its morning rays into the room. "I'm sorry I woke you up like that Bree, I'm sure it's not about to happen again."  
  
Brianna faked a pout at Paris. "It's OK, but now I'm not going to know if my alarm is going to work until tomorrow morning. Waking up to the sound of my alarm clock was going to be the highlight of my morning." She looked forlornly towards the blank face of her alarm clock, which she would have to reset after her and Paris got back from class.  
  
"How about I drive you down to that great doughnut place on Kinross and we get a baker's dozen, along with some coffee, my treat." Paris took some money out of her pocket, and Brianna looked back at her friend. Her mood had brightened considerably.  
  
"I say this day is starting to look up Miss Gellar, it's well-known to my friends in Antioch that a trip to the Krispy Kreme on Century for their sweet decadence has always brightened my day, no matter my mood." Brianna got up and grabbed her cardigan sweater off her computer chair. "But from now on Paris, promise me that the hot plate will only be used to warm up soup and boiling noodles, and the occasional hot sandwich."  
  
"Scout's honor Bree, the hotplate has seen its last culinary disaster from the likes of me." Paris got up from her chair, and walked with Brianna to the door. "Now come on, we don't want a repeat of last Friday when Doug and Ronnie beat us to the éclairs and glazed donuts, not to mention the vanilla cream soy lattes."  
  
"We'll wipe the floor with them this time!" Brianna growled, baring her teeth like a dog. "By the time Dumb and Dumber get there, the only thing they'll get to choose is stale day-old doughnut holes!"  
  
Paris gave her roommate an odd look of amusement. "O-Kay, remind me to let you cut in line when we visit Krispy Kreme." The two roommates walked out of the room, ready to face their fourth day at UCLA, and two mornings till their first true weekend at the college.  


* * *

_Damn it, will this class ever end?_ Paris thought to herself as she watched Professor Jimenez lecture about journalistic ethics from the middle levels of the medium-sized lecture hall the class was being taught in. She was surrounded by 150 other students, and just seemed like another face in the crowd. Five other girls in her row alone had nose piercings, and a couple of them even had on added holes in their eyebrows, which disgusted the Connecticut girl. She could never see the point of piercing a part of her face which would surely block out her field of vision. Still a year ago, she couldn't even picture having a piece of jewelry coming out of her nose, and look what happened with that.  
  
She figured when she took the ethics class that the first few lessons were basically going to rehash what she learned in school, but not to the degree that her professor was going to go over the same facts that were already old hat by 11th grade to her. Suddenly the Santa Monica Pier and the bright sunshine outside the walls of the lecture hall seemed to be calling out Paris' name, and she was wondering why her stubborn perfect attendance policy continued to go through into her college years. Professor Jimenez was making the same points about non-biased war reporting that Mrs. Stewart had taught her in the tenth grade, and finally Paris had stopped typing notes in her laptop, because she had the exact same notes already in her documents folder.  
  
She looked down at the Mac desktop as she minimized the notepad window, and the little yellow man above the words AOL Instant Messenger was screaming "Open me!" in her inner monologue. Rory had emailed Paris from her brand-new yale.edu address about three days before to say that Yale was a great experience so far, and then to drop her AIM handle of Mocha108Yalie and telling Paris she could instant message her anytime she felt like it. Paris double-clicked on the icon, and looking waringly at the professor rambling on and on about the CBS ethics code Edward R. Murrow instituted at the network in the 1950s, typed in her screenname slowly. She wasn't about to win points for handle originality, PGellar167 just didn't really scream any kind of individuality out at people she'd meet online.  
  
She logged onto the IM client, and found that two out of six buddies were logged on at the moment, suggesting that Rory and Brianna (aka AntiCABree) were also finding their two lessons just as boring as Paris was finding hers. She smiled as she found that Madeline and Louise were too invested in their lessons to really care about a mid-morning IM chat. Her nanny Francisca was also on her buddy list because they'd both made a promise to keep in contact with each other about every month between LA and Portugal. And Tristans screenname was also listed, but she kept his name on more for nostalgia's sake than having actual conversation. Paris hit the volume key furiously several times to silence the ensuing bells that were sure to sound as she and Rory would talk to each other. She decided that Rory would have the first move to ask how she was doing, and moments later, a window with Rory's handle popped up onscreen.  
  
_Mocha108Yalie - Hey Paris, what's going on :)?  
  
__Ahh, she's there_. Paris smiled to herself again, and composed a response to Rory's missive.  
  
_PGellar167 - Hello Rory, just testing out the UCLA WiFi, I've got a really strong signal.  
  
_Rory saw right past Paris' excuse though.  
  
_Mocha108Yalie - How boring is your class that you're messaging me during mine?  
  
_"Curses." Even across 3,000 miles, Rory Gilmore was no dummy, as Paris whispered the word under her breath. No one was onto her, so she continued the conversation.  
  
_PGellar167 - Don't tell me. You're also in a journalism ethics class. And the material is so beneath you they might as well give you crayons and apple juice because the teaching is so primary.  
Mocha108Yalie - I feel like I've heard all of this before Par. I know in two weeks we'll start getting into the heavy stuff, but for now I could play a tape of Stewart's lesson and end up hearing my male teacher have a perfect dub with her lecture.  
PGellar167 - I'm not complaining about the teaching, but more the syllabus. If I would've known the first week and a half would've been just a quiz on 10th grade ethics, I would've taken another class instead, or spent my time here catching up on my non-academic reading.  
Mocha108Yalie - Paris, we must be the only two girls on the internet who use actual English when they talk to each other. We have to be a very boring conversation to watch.  
  
Don't laugh_. Paris stopped herself before she could laugh aloud at Rory's comments, and was waiting for the perfect timing to bring in her new California friend.  
  
_PGellar167 - Very. Although I could stir up the masses if I told you about the nightmare I had of you making out with 'Ray of Light' Madonna on the disco floor in her video about four nights ago.  
Mocha108Yalie - (gasps) Paris!!  
PGellar167 - (seductively) Come on Rory, you know you want her.  
Mocha108Yalie - Whatever Miss 'I Want an Older Woman!'.  
PGellar167 - Hey, Madonna's 47, Sheryl's only 40! You're the one with the whole granny complex!  
Mocha108Yalie - God, I thought we were done with the whole latent gayness thing! If you want to soak up the sun with Sheryl Crow so much, write her and ask if she wants you, I'm sure once she sees your picture she won't refuse!  
PGellar167 - lol, I'm not that gutsy Gilmore.  
Mocha108Yalie - Sure, and Summer got an invitation to Oxford ;). I know you, you'll write this kiss-ass letter describing how Miss Crow has been such an influence in your life, and you'll sneak in a little line in the middle that says 'oh, and if you asked to have a same-sex affair, I'm your girl Sheryl, please?' I know you well Paris, you'll sneak hidden meanings into your writings, and somehow they stick with people so inexplicably.  
PGellar167 - (blushes) Fine, you got me. But I wouldn't be that crude at asking her to join me, I'd probably just say that she was one of the few women I'd sleep with without hesitation.  
Mocha108Yalie - And if not, you'll be persuasive, won't you Par?  
PGellar167 - That's why I'm called the queen of debating, live and learn Gilmore.  
  
_Paris took a breath and was about to read Rory's response, when another AIM window made itself known.  
  
_AntiCABree - I can still taste those delicious doughnuts Paris, we **must** eat there again one of these days. Damn they make some great bakery!  
  
_Paris told Rory to hold on for a couple minutes, and she started up a quick convo with Brianna.  
  
_PGellar167 - We have 8 more in the dorm, we'll finish them off later Bree.  
AntiCABree - Actually only six. Big appetite this morning, hope you don't mind if I had four.  
PGellar167 - I don't mind Bree, just save a couple for tomorrow morning since we have that early lecture.  
AntiCABree - Will do then Par. Talking to anyone else?  
PGellar167 - Just Rory from New Haven, want to join in and meet her?  
AntiCABree - Id love to, but I can't, the lecture's about 15% of my grade. I thought Id just come on quick and ask you to pick up dinner at In-and-Out later down in Santa Monica, I just have this huge urge for a 3x3 with a large fry. Im going right to the library from my political science block this afternoon, so Im not going to see you till about 9.  
PGellar167 - Ill stop by there first before I get home, then I have to stop at Sav-On and pick up some...needs. Its not coming for another week or so, but I like to be prepared for when it arrives.  
AntiCABree - lol, just keep yours separated from mine, different personal care items for different girls.  
PGellar167 - Got it. BTW, you bookmarked that page of In-and-Out burger varieties from the web, right? Can you email that link to me, it's going to be my first time ordering and I don't want to walk into that store and end up with something altogether wrong. That 'well done' fry line is definitely going to be used, but I don't know what kind of burger I want yet.  
AntiCABree - I'll have it in your box by the time you get home Par.  
PGellar167 - Thanks Brianna, you're the best roommate a girl can ask for :).  
AntiCABree - Your welcome, and I think the same of you Paris. Say hi to Rory for me.  
PGellar167 - I sure will. See you later.  
AntiCABree - Bye.  
  
_Paris closed Brianna's window and was about to reopen Rory's chat window, when Professor Jimenez happened to call her name.  
  
"Miss Gellar, you seem to be so engrossed in your notes that you should know what effect Terry Anderson's kidnapping had on the ethics policies of the Middle East news bureaus in the 1980s, print and electronic. Please share." He pointed at her, and 150 pairs of eyes suddenly focused on the blonde in the middle of the room.   
  
Her mind was a complete blank, and she sounded more Valley Girl than Hartford Academic. "Um, they got tougher?" Paris felt like a total idiot, and learned that Jimenez's job was to throw her a loop to keep her on her toes in his class. _Stewart never said anything about Terry Anderson!  
_  
Prof. Jimenez smiled smugly at her, and she sunk in her chair as everyone looked at her and laughed, some loudly and some lightly. "I'll ask someone else this time, but next time Miss Gellar I suggest you have an answer that's much more well thought out and unobstructed from your oh-so-important internet conversation about boy bands and lipstick shades. Next time I catch you in mid-conversation you'll be using a pen and paper for notes instead, do you understand?"  
  
"Yes Professor Jimenez," was all Paris could say as she promised herself that this was going to be the last time she slacked off in college. The lessons might be novice to her, but the questions in the quizzes had the same amount of points as the harder ones in the end.  
  
When she checked her email later, she found a message from Rory that said that she had been caught in the IMing act too a few minutes later, and been embarrassed in front of her whole class. The midday conversation they shared would be but a one time thing. Not that Paris was against the decisions of the teachers, her and Rory were at their respective schools to learn, not chat with each other cross country. _Like birds of a feather, we're always staying together,_ Paris mused to herself as she changed out of her school wear of light slacks and a blouse, into some tight blue jeans and a lime green tank top. She did a little extra primping than she usually did when she went out, seeing as it was her first time going out into the world of southern California. A little extra eyeshadow there, some added blush on her cheeks, and a slightly deeper shade of pink instead of her regular shade of lipstick that matched her exact lip color, and Paris thought she looked nice. She admired herself in the mirror, and thought there was still something missing from her new look.  
  
"Huh, there's something I need yet, what is it?" She pondered the quandary, wrinkling her eyebrows and watching her reflection in the mirror, looking for that something that would work. It wasn't the Star of David on her necklace, nor was it that she should change over to a different type of nose stud, like a sapphire or other stone.  
  
A couple minutes later, she figured out what was missing as she stared at her image in the bathroom mirror. "I need to braid my hair, that's it." Confident with her beauty which was just now starting to shine outside the confines of stuffy Hartford society, she twisted the strands around in back, trying to recall each and every detail Francisca gave her when she'd braid her charge's hair when Paris woke up in the morning.  
  
_I just hope it doesn't end up like breakfast did,_ she thought to herself, giggling a little as step by step flew by in Portuguese in her head at each step in the braiding process. It came out so much better than the morning meal, and Paris admired her back as she placed the final rubber band at the end of the ponytailed braid she had just made all by herself.  
  
"Hmm, quite a good job Paris." With her self-consciousness appeased, she grabbed the In-and-Out menu printout from the printer, put it in her purse, and walked out of her dorm room, locking the door so that nothing could be stolen.  
  
As she turned around though, she found herself face to face with her new enemy, Doug from 319.  
  
Well, more like her face was staring at Doug's, and Doug was looking down towards her...necklace.  
  
"Hey Merriweather, get out of my way," she said scowling as she tried to bypass the guy in front of her. "Don't you have anything better to do than bug the hell out of me and Brianna?"  
  
"I checked my datebook Eiffel Girl, there's nothing else to do. And damn, where did you get those nice ta-tas, someone blessed you!"  
  
"Mother Nature, and in your dreams dumbass." Paris rolled her eyes and put her arms around her chest, trying to bring down Doug's libido.  
  
"What, you don't like me calling you Eiffel Girl?"  
  
"Do I look like I have a freakin' beret on, it's Paris, plain and simple! Unless you want me to give you a crude vasectomy with the toe of one of my running shoes I suggest you can the macho act, it doesn't work!" She saw Doug cower and cringe as the image of Paris kicking him in the groin hit his mind hard.   
  
"OK, Paris, don't do it, nothing is more important to me than my boys!" Doug turned around and started walking back to his room as Paris followed. "Listen, how about next time we share the baker's dozen, Ronnie was pissed when I came home with nothing but holes."  
  
"Only if you give me and Bree $10 a week and promise to stop with the machismo. I'll buy Monday, Wednesday and Friday, you and Ronnie have Tuesdays and Thursdays, that's $5 for 13 each day. We have to live down the same hall for the next year, so I'd rather make peace, not war."  
  
"Isn't that make love, not war?" Doug said with a smug grin. That statement made Paris look down at the tip on her right shoe.  
  
"Doug, come on, I'm serious. I think under that attitude there's a nice guy under there, and I'd rather share doughnuts with you guys than either have to pay a full price for a certain number or waste six of them because we don't have that much of an appetite."  
  
Doug thought about Paris' plan for a moment, and found it to be of his liking. "OK Paris, we'll buy on Tuesday and Thursday, and you girls get the rest. Also the two buying get to keep the extra doughnut." Doug held out his hand. "Do we have a deal?"  
  
"We have a deal Doug." Paris had a stoic front and started to shake Doug's hand, but quickly realized that his shake felt a little clammy and unnatural, and that it seemed to have a slimy feel to it.  
  
"DOUG!!! You spit in your hand before you came to torture me, didn't you?" She reeled back her hand, and took a moist towellette out of her purse hanging from her right shoulder.  
  
"Sorry, sorry Gellar, I intended to torture you before, but I don't wanna anymore!" Doug was truly sorry, but Paris wasn't having any of it. "That better be the last time Merriweather, or else you might find yourself with a black eye in addition to a lack of child-making ability." She glared at him as she walked down the hall, and Doug became the Brad Langford of UCLA. Paris' dark browns pierced deep into him, and his few days of making fun of the girl from Hartford, and by proxy her Bay Area roommate had ended with that staredown.  
  
The boy from near San Diego sulked his way back into his room, feeling defeated beyond any shadow of a doubt. Doug shut the door and slumped onto his bed, he had to let his friend across from his dorm know that they couldn't make fun of Paris and Brianna anymore.  
  
_Besides, that Brianna is pretty cute, I couldn't tease someone as beautiful as her_, he thought as he took a rubber ball out of his pocket and threw it up towards the ceiling.  


* * *

Paris looked over the printout of In-and-Out ordering tips on her steering wheel, trying to figure out what would be the perfect meal for her to take out from the burger stand just off Wilshire. Her stomach was starting to rumble, and her roommate's urging that she wouldn't become an unofficial Californian without a trip to the ubiquitous burger chain that was just as much a part of SoCal as surfing and Hollywood was finally getting to her. As much as she campaigned against the evils of junk food in her run for student body president, her resolve to only eat healthy was fading. Sleepovers at the Gilmore home started luring her towards the darkside, and she had eventually warmed to the food that Luke served. The reality of college eating was hitting her hard too; It may have been almost nothing to have a meal of soy everything at the Manor, but when it was coming to being on her own and having to budget out her sustenance for a month in school, Paris' calculations came out higher than she ever expected.  
  
Of course there was the added factor of Rory's habits somehow becoming her own. Just like Rory at Yale, Paris' other constant companion besides her PowerBook was a travel mug filled to the brim with coffee, be it from the Starbucks just off campus, 7-Eleven or the doughnut shop her and Brianna were frequenting. Not about to reprise her earlier cooking disaster with coffee grounds, others always supplied Paris' caffeine supply, and she drank the stuff like it was a fine wine, with a lump of sugar and soy milk the only addition to the drink. Despite her best efforts, Rory Gilmore had somehow become a part of Paris' life, and the blonde wouldn't want things to have gone any other way. She had picked up a bad habit, but a wonderful friend in the process.  
  
Paris read the sheet of paper silently, and finally came up with her perfect meal. "A 2x2 with well done fries and a Diet Coke," she told herself as she got out of her car and walked into the store without the printout. She was trying to find a perfect substitute for that unique delicacy that was Luke's version of the french fry. Luke's burgers were just fine to her, but put a plate of golden brown crinkly fries fresh out of the fryer in front of Paris, and Luke was as much of a food god to her as Lorelai's assertions that he was a sex god. Crispy on the outside and soft on the inside, that was her idea of french fry nirvana, and Luke was her supplier for that need. Ever since that one time she shared dinner with Rory and Jess, french fries became a favorite food, just like her obsession with macaroni and cheese. Salt combined with pepper on a plate with some Frank's RedHot on the side, and the girl couldn't stop eating them.  
  
She stopped at the door as she realized who had turned her on to fries in the first place, and the unique way of eating them taught to her by a master. _Jess, do I ever miss that boy_, she mused as she walked in. Occasionally, her dreams would be plagued by a replay of that one and only meeting at Gilmore house she had with Luke's nephew, and their conversations about one Jack Kerouac. Paris hated him with a passion, Jess would take him for a lover if so asked to. They argued for about fifteen minutes about the subject, until the two were disrupted by Dean's need to butt in and wonder why Jess was there in first place. After Jess had fled, Paris made up some excuse about wanting to date Jess and having a crush on him, then failing miserably to win his heart because he wasn't into her.  
  
But it was almost the entire truth. The part about her hearing about him from Rory a few months ago was a total lie, seeing as she had just met the boy an hour ago, save for him just being a bystander to her at the Bracebridge dinner. But the rest, especially the part where she wanted to go out with him, was a fact. Rory was someone good to argue about books and current events with, but she could see Gilmore every day at school.  
  
Jess however, was an enigma wrapped in a nice body that Paris found herself admiring quite a bit during their arguments aboiut the Beat writers. He wasn't smart in the usual way of getting all A grades, but he could talk about literature like it was the jewel of the Western world that needed to be shined every day when he woke up. His eyes, a matching chestnut shade to those of the academic beauty, she found herself lost in them several times and was distracted by all she could see inside of them. And his body...Paris was not one to fall into lust that easily with a guy, it was what was on the inside that counted to her. But a corrupted thought of getting ahold of that outside, especially in the gluteal, pectoral and pelvic areas of Jess Mariano's body, flew through her so fast, she almost fainted from the hot flash she got when she had dreamed of him that night on Rory's couch, and them having a very interesting game of Strip Trivial Pursuit.  
  
She decided the day after that Rory might be a more perfect match with Jess than her, so Paris backed down and let fate play its cards for her. If she didn't get Jess, it was never meant to be, and she could move on. But if he paid attention to her, as Dr. Seuss would say, 'oh the places you'll go!'.   
  
Then Jamie got in the way, and took her focus away from Jess Mariano in the snap of a finger. He was a big sweet talker, and she thought she loved him after she spent the holidays with him in Philadelphia, but things went too fast for her. She actually wanted to save herself until at least graduation, but Jamie pressured her that night she drove down to his dorm in New Jersey after signing off the call with Charleston and Rory about the speech.  
  
Her description of the act to Rory as 'very afterschool special' couldn't be more apt. The two dry humped for about a half-hour, and then they started fondling, heavy petting, and tender kissing that was so boring that Paris probably would've slept through her first time if Jamie hadn't kept the lights on in the dorm ("I'm scared I might hurt my delicate flower," the boy said to her as he refused her request to be a little rougher with her, causing Paris to roll her eyes on the inside). The only fire that was actually lit up that night was Paris trying to light a candle for a last gasp at romantic ambiance, but Jamie saying no because he was allergic to them. The fireplace was an exaggeration on Paris' part, she really didn't want to tell Rory her first time was in a depressing 7x7 cinder blocked dorm room painted spartan white with the ugliest draperies from the 70s Paris had ever seen. And worse, Jamie's roommate walked in on them a couple times to get some books and ruined the mood.  
  
As for the sex, she might as well have been laying in a separate bed pleasuring herself, because he just made love to her in the ultimate position of boringness, the missionary position. Scratch that, he just rose up and down into her mimicking sex as if he was a rubber stamp and she the paper he was going to make his mark on. The whole thing was over in less than five minutes after he put on his condom, and as Paris fell asleep that night in her 'lover's' arms, she was thinking about how wonderful a lover Jess could be and how he'd actually leave a mark on her as the best sex she ever had. _It would be more Letters to Penthouse than afterschool special, I don't doubt that,_ she thought as she drifted off to sleep, thinking the only thing that Jamie had done was broken her physical seal. He hadn't broke through to that special spiritual virginity lurking within Paris' soul, and that would eventually be the death knell of her first relationship.  
  
Back in the present time, Paris sat against the outside wall of the restaurant, quickly willing the images of Jamie out of her mind. She was at In-and-Out Burger to get food, not reminisce about her failures with boys.  
  
Paris walked into the restaurant, and waited in the line in front of the counter for a few minutes, amazed at the speed that the orders were being taken and were served. It was a fast food restaurant all right, but all the burgers and fries were made fresh and served with care rather than the usual rushed and uncaring paces that would be seen at other fast food establishments. Paris hadn't gone to any of those places because the food always ended up cold when she got it, and it wasn't made very well in the first place.  
  
Finally first in line, she walked up to the counter and looked up at the menu. Even though she knew what she wanted, Paris wanted to make sure she got everything right.  
  
"Welcome to In-and-Out Burger, for here or take out ma'am?" The cashier up front smiled at Paris, and she rattled off her order.  
  
"One 2x2, one 3x3, two orders of fries and a Diet Coke, make one of the fry orders well done, all to go." The register girl nodded, told Paris the total, and took Paris' money, then headed over to the fountain dispenser and filled a cup with soda. Paris watched the workers speedily make up her two orders, and in about a minute and half, her order was all done.  
  
"Enjoy ma'am, and thank you for choosing In-and-Out Burger," the cashier said as she handed Paris two bags of her order, along with the drink.  
  
"I probably will, that was some good service," Paris responded back happily, clearly impressed with the speedy and courteous service she had just gotten. "I'm sure you'll be seeing me again if this food is delicious."  
  
She turned back around after taking the food, and walked towards the front door, reading the little spiel on the bag about the history of In-and-Out and their commitment to quality. She kept trying to strain to look at the words below her, only monitoring the floor on the bottom to know when she was at the door.  
  
Paris didn't hear the door open in front of her, and didn't see the boy about to walk right in her path until just a few moments before they were going to crash. She looked clearly distracted, and upon seeing the shadow form of a man on the ground, she stopped walking and proceeded to try to let the man pass in front of her.  
  
The man had stopped walking into her too. But not for the reasons of trying to avoid a collision.  
  
"Oh, sorry, I'll get out of your way sir," Paris told the boy before she tried to shuffle left of him.  
  
"No, it can't be," the boy said back, perplexed. "It just can't."  
  
"Can't what?" Paris wondered why the guy wasn't moving. She hadn't looked back up yet.  
  
"It can't be you." The boy smiled at Paris and took the Diet Coke she was holding out of her right hand. "You're Paris, right?"  
  
Startled by the mention of her name and the boy insisting on helping her carrying her food, her attention had started to make it's way towards the boy. "Yeah, I'm Paris, how do you know--" She glanced up towards him, and lost all of her words as the features of the boy in front of her slammed into her mind.  
  
She reeled back from him and walked backwards towards one of the booths in the middle aisle.  
  
"You know who I am, right?"  
  
Paris was in a state of disbelief. The black hair that felt so wonderful to run her fingers through, the squarish jaw, those tempting lips and those brown eyes she could lose herself in. The same boy she announced she had a crush on one night in March 2002 was standing right in front of her, wearing a pair of dark blue worn out jeans and a faded red band t-shirt. "Jess, it can't be you." She forced her eyes closed, trying to make sure this wasn't a dream, that the boy was in the same Santa Monica burger joint she was in.  
  
"You're not seeing things Smartie, it's me, Jess Mariano." He walked towards Paris as she opened her eyes, and she found her way into a booth. She set the two bags of food down, and offered him the seat across from her.  
  
She was still in a stunned state as she tried to restore her normal conversational abilities. "But, well I thought you were going out west, more north though. Rory said you were headed to Portland or Coeur d'Alene when you left back in April, what are you doing here?" She brought the food out of her bag and decided that talking and eating with Jess on the run wouldn't be that prudent.  
  
"I thought so too at first, my father said he was out in Oregon all this time. But then he found a job in LA, so he decided to sell the house he had in Portland and buy a home down in Venice near the beach. He didn't really have room for me in the old house, so now I have my own bedroom and everything."  
  
"I'm just in so much shock right now Jess, you're the last person I expected to see here in Los Angeles. Hell, I didn't expect to see anyone I know already until I got back to Hartford for the holidays." She lay back in the seat and set out her food along her side in the table in order of consumption.  
  
Jess was just as shocked as Paris was with meeting each other once again. He wasn't expecting hugs and kisses and a whole 'I missed you so' vibe, but he was still taken aback that the girl he had just about debated about Kerouac to the death so long ago was sitting in front of him, so far from her home.  
  
"Why are you here Paris?" Jess asked. "Shouldn't you be at Yale with Rory?"  
  
She tried to minimize the question as best she could into a small sentence or two, laughing nervously to bring down the tension. "I decided this was going to be my form of rebellion, so I said to my mother I'm going to UCLA instead of Yale for college, and here I am."  
  
"Did that come with the nose ring?" He smirked at her as his eyes caught the diamond on the side of her schnozz.  
  
"That was my pre-graduation, post-meltdown rebellion," Paris told him, trying to categorize the two rebellions as different events. "It was get this or scream in the tattoo artist's chair as he scrawled an image of a building into my ankle. This piercing did get infected the first time I got it, but I decided to keep it nonetheless."  
  
"Well I might not have imagined you with one back in Connecticut, but here in California, I say you make it look pretty cute." He smiled at her, and Paris tried her best to hold back a blush. Her friends may have commented on it before and said it looked nice, but to have a member of the opposite sex say that to her, it sent that funny warm feeling up her spine that happened when a boy would compliment her.  
  
"Thank you Jess," she said back. "Um, since you were about to eat here did you want to take my roommate's food? It's a 3x3 with regular fries; I can reorder it just before I leave. That way we can eat together and catch up on our current events."  
  
"I was probably going to end up with the same thing, so sure, pass it on over Paris." She shoved the bag towards him, and then took off the light grey sweater she was wearing over her blouse. "I'm going to go get some condiments, need a soda or anything else?"  
  
"Um, Coke would be nice. What are you getting from the condiment bar?"  
  
"A coffee filter so I can mix the salt and pepper, what else?" A smirked played on her lips. "And hopefully some hot sauce, I never did forget it was fast food gospel Jess. You are a wiseman." She turned around and walked away from the table, leaving Jess to reminisce their first meeting all over again.  
  
He watched her at the counter ordering his Coke and asking for a tray, and was amazed at how much they had become fast friends once again. He hadn't seen Paris since probably February when she was in town for another one of Rory's projects, but had spent most of his time upstairs in the office because he was juggling trying to get ready for work for some inane assignment in Algebra 4. One of the reasons he had regretted leaving the Hollow when his father came calling for reconciliation was that he had never been able to build up a strong friendship with Rory's friend.  
  
_Or even a relationship_, he thought bitterly. There were times during his relationship with Rory that he craved for more than Rory could ever give him. She had a great relationship with her own mother, and despite the distance, Christopher was always there for her when he was needed, despite Sherrie. He didn't have that strong a relationship with Liz or Jimmy. Going out with Rory had been a dream to him, but when he had broken up with Shane and found Rory to be his girlfriend, he realized that this was a relationship doomed from the start. The pesky attraction Luke had for Lorelai had always been in the front of his mind, and that had always gotten in the way with what he wanted to give to Rory. The pressure the townspeople put on him to behave around their 'princess', as someone sitting next to him in class snarked, also got to him after awhile. He wanted a relationship full of love and the other things, and to be that perfect second boyfriend to her. But after awhile, the events in town conspired to bring down the high of being Rory Gilmore's boyfriend. Everytime he would try to be romantic with her, there were Lorelai or Luke, sometimes even Dean, trying to prevent his newest PDA from happening.  
  
After awhile, it became apparent that the attraction him and Rory shared at first was fading, and was being held on by their sexual tension for each other and their love of literature. But even that latter connection was lost because he hadn't had time for books all that much in his haste to pay for the junky Plymouth he was trying to pay off. His need to work more at Wal-Mart had started cutting into his time at school, and it cost him when it came to his grades. By the time his father had come to reconcile with him, his GPA was down to below 1.50, and he was tiring of the massive hours he spent working for the discount giant. He saw his father coming as a perfect opportunity for a fresh start, financially, scholastically and romantically. He was going to miss Rory, but he felt in the end that there was no relationship that could possibly stay strong long distance. So they broke it off as ambically as possible, with him promising a postcard a month to the girl. With his father having an interest in cars, there was no need to keep the ugly brown Plymouth in his stable. He sold it back to Gypsy for $800 and used the money to help him and his father settle in Venice.  
  
And despite what everyone in Stars Hollow thought, he really did want his high school diploma, the teachers were just not trying to help him out all that much though. He was used to the more hands-on help he had received in his special classes back in Brooklyn, which he didn't receive in Stars Hollow High because they couldn't understand him much more than he was a student from New York with a short attention span. Upon arriving in Venice, Jimmy had him registered at Venice Senior High, where he was sure to have a class schedule that would challenge, yet not overwhelm him. Jess may not be the smartest guy in history, but he realized that any college he went to would look more down at him if he took the coward's way out and decided to take the GED test instead of finishing high school.  
  
He let his thoughts wander towards Paris, who was at the condiment bar trying to find hot sauce or a spicy equivalent. Their one meeting had amazed him so much, and her passion at trying to bring down every point he tried fruitlessly to make about his favorite writers got to him so much, he hardly remembered the drama between him, Dean and Rory that happened later. For awhile at least, Paris was in his dreams more than Rory was, and there were times where he wanted Rory to get Paris' phone number and address so he could attempt to pursue her for more debates and maybe a date.  
  
But for once in his life, he decided to back down. All of Rory's babbling about how uptight Paris was, that she had a family that would place his entire being under a microscope and would tell him that he was unworthy for their daughter, it became too much for him to bear. By the time that he had decided to try to ask Paris out, Rory had kissed him at the Duper's wedding after he came back from New York, and changed his thought processes 180° away from Paris. His hormones had gotten the better of him, and cost him whatever chance he may have tried to have with Paris.  
  
The next school year was spent assuming he wanted Rory, and that Paris was now off limits due to her finding Jamie, which made it easier for him to put aside any feelings he had for the blonde. Not that he didn't love Rory, he really did, and leaving her when he went to California was one of the worst events he'd ever had experience. But it was time to start a new chapter, and breaking up on good terms with her was the epilogue to it all.  
  
At that moment though, watching Paris walk back towards him with all of her condimental needs appeased, he knew that him and his romantic tendencies were in for a long ride, because with no one but Jimmy in his way, there was no stopping his second chance to woo Paris.  
  
She sat back down on one side of the booth, and set the coffee filter with perfectly mixed salt and pepper dip in the middle of the table. The cashier up front had gave her one of the few spare disposable ashtrays they had left, and she started squirting ketchup-like packets of hot sauce into the tray of the tin. Jess unpackaged his proffered food from the bag, and was about to try and mix his fries with Paris. Her hand grabbed his wrist before he could attempt it.  
  
"My fries are well done, yours are regular style, so I refuse to let them get mixed up Jess. There's rule number one of eating dinner with me." She smirked at him, and he faked being haughty at hearing such a thing.  
  
"Well I never Paris, you've developed a french fry addiction on par with your craving for macaroni and cheese." He started dipping a couple of fries into the hot sauce tray.  
  
"Blame your Uncle Luke for that one, he was my fry supplier until I left for LA a couple weeks ago. I'm still trying to find that perfect potato that compares or exceeds the way that he whips 'em up." She coated an In-and-Out fry lightly with the dip and sauce, and then sunk her teeth into it, savoring the taste of the starchy confection.  
  
Moments later, the fry had been chewed up and was sliding down her esophagus, a moment that would be considered passé for most regular folk. However for Paris, she had finally found that elusive french fry recipe that was just as good and better than Luke's. She sighed and smiled in contentment, sipping her Diet Coke to cool off her tongue from the spicy effect of the hot sauce. Her urge to do a full-on imitation of Meg Ryan in the orgasm scene was quickly reduced to just a comment about how delectable the food was to her.  
  
"Mmmmmmm, Brianna should've told me about this place earlier, what a fry!" Jess looked at her oddly for a moment, before realizing that this wasn't out of the ordinary behavior for Paris. She was almost a cheerleader for the benefits of wheat germ when they last talked.  
  
"I take it the way to your heart is through your stomach," he joked as he took a bite out of his burger.  
  
"Perhaps it is, although the way I cook I could probably damage that roadway and close it down for a few days. Let's just say me and a hot plate? Not a good combination. Me and a 1500-page biology text, much better partners."  
  
"So we can finally calm down Sara Moulton that you're not about to overtake her on the Food Network, good to hear." He took another couple bites of cheeseburger, and decided to get down to business. "So how are you liking LA so far Par? It must be a cynic's dream come true to live in the true capital of cynicism."  
  
"Actually, the only gripes I have so far are with the transportation. It's hell getting through all that traffic, and then digging out all the money you need to fill up your gas tank, paying $2.30 a gallon for gasoline was unfathomable to me before. Thankfully the Jag's fuel-efficient, and most everything I need is pretty close to campus so I can save on gas mileage."  
  
"But otherwise it ain't as bad as it's all cracked up to be?"  
  
"I'm not about to go all Randy Newman and confess my undying love for this metropolis in song, but it's a great town, heh." Jess laughed at her little joke, then let her continue. "I've had to change a few things about myself, like my clothes and being open to new experiences, and now I'm discovering the reason sunglasses were invented. I had to commute to the downtown library a few mornings ago to do some microfilm research for a crime reporting class I'm taking, and that sun is really bright when you're eastbound on the 10. Then again, I don't miss the rain and clouds that befall Hartford occasionally at all."  
  
"Not a fan of getting wet, are you Gellar?" Jess' words were meant to be innocuous, but somehow the rasp of his voice had turned the sentence into an entendre, floating around her brain. _Don't you even dare, we're not going there! _Paris scolded herself silently, trying to keep herself from starting to think of Jess in the opposite sex sense once again. Determined, she was going to make sure they were friends, and nothing more. She gave him her stare of death, and he quickly backed down upon realizing how bad that sentence actually came out when uttered.  
  
"Fine, don't answer that." He thought for a moment of a more appropriate inquiry. "You were the last of us two to see Rory, how is she doing? It's been about two weeks since I wrote my last postcard to her."  
  
"She's starting Yale, and doing fine. It's a little tough for her, but I think she'll make it," She hesitated for a moment before asking another question, wondering if he was still pining for Rory, but decided that friendship meant more to her than jealousy over the ex. "I have her AIM screenname, would you like me to give it to you so you can surprise her one day?"  
  
"I'd love to take you up on that offer, but unless you want to buy a computer for me, I'll pass. Internet access just isn't in my dad's budget for now." He breathed in some air, and exhaled slowly. "And to tell you the truth, I'm not ready for a full-on conversation with her quite yet. I don't want to jar her concentration from school, and I don't want to find out the hard way that I burned all my bridges."  
  
"It's OK, I understand." Paris looked at Jess, and a little part of her was relieved that she didn't have to tell Rory about her sudden meeting. "Me and Louise would try to bring you up over the summer, but she really didn't say anything except that she hoped you were doing well out west. She didn't seem to be hiding anything and was really just thinking about school, I think Rory plans to be done with guys for the next year or so. I think you're cool with her Jess, and I just wouldn't dwell on it."  
  
"You're sure Paris?"  
  
"I'm sure, she only holds grudges against people who really piss her off, like Francie from school and your ex Shane. I never saw Shane though, so I'm not going to believe what Rory says about her."  
  
"You shouldn't, Shane is actually a pretty nice girl. A little off in the cranial department, yes, but not so much she had only the intelligence of a balloon. She's going to Minnesota up in the Twin Cities, she wrote me herself and said that she's found love."  
  
Paris gave him a look that said 'I don't believe she's found love'. Jess rolled his eyes back and relented.  
  
"Fine, she found herself a guy she can make out with for hours at a time. But he does love her, and she loves him when it comes down to it!"  
  
"OK, I believe you, Shane's in love!" She was happy being able to have a friendly conversation with Jess like this. "Got a job out here yet? Last time I heard you were working up the Wal-Mart corporate ladder." She bit into her burger and let Jess respond.  
  
"Actually I've moved up in the world, now I'm working at that high-class discount chain they call Target up in Culver City. Nice hours, and they pay a lot more than Mr. Walton could ever afford to me. I work about five days a week, you managed to catch me on one of my off days."  
  
"Nice," Paris mumbled as she swallowed her food. "School hasn't started in Venice yet, right?" Jess nodded back. "How many credits do you need before you graduate?"  
  
"About six or seven, so that's about four classes a day, I'll be out by January if I can keep my concentration up. I'm taking six a day though because there were some interesting literature classes, including one involving 60s writers."  
  
He paused for a moment, knowing that if he took this next step, Paris wasn't going to be that 'blonde classmate of Rory's' anymore. She was going to be a part of his new life in Los Angeles, and he would be powerless to stop it.  
  
_Not that I would want to anyways_, he thought as his eyes wandered down Paris' form. _I didn't know she had so much...definition beneath her blouse. _So much for thinking of a former Chilton schoolgirl in chaste terms, now he understood the reason Paris wore a blazer at school to the bitter end.  
  
He continued on anyways. "As a matter of fact, I was headed down to a bookstore downtown after I ate that one of my father's friends recommended to me. I'm going to pick up some reading material and class texts, can't make margin notes in the rented texts at school. Do you have time to come along?"  
  
"Well I still have to stop at Sav-On and pick up some...womanly items Jess." She blushed upon admitting her cycle to him.  
  
He laughed back. "I have the time, the shop doesn't close till about 9. I'll just follow you in my car and we can go into the bookstore together."  
  
"I have a better idea. How about I drive you there in the Jag, and when we're done we just drive back here and you can take your car back to Venice? You know, environmental conservation and such?"  
  
"What about Sav-On?"  
  
"It's not for another week, I'll just stop there on my way back up to Westwood." Jess stared at her as if Paris was a madwoman for planning for her period as if it was an appointment. She cocked an eyebrow. "What? If you were a woman you'd understand."  
  
"I'll never understand women, especially someone as kooky as you Paris. I mean that as a compliment though." He started to eat then, and left Paris to shaking her head at how much Jess could get under her skin.  
  
"You better, I can find out where you live Beat Boy." They both looked at each other, understanding their banter was meant as good natured, and started eating their dinners in relative silence. They continued catching up on each other's lives throughout, and by the time they left the restaurant around 7, their dormant friendship had been renewed strongly in just one short hour.  


* * *

"Crap, crap, crap!" Paris was in a panic as she parked her car in the Saxons lot. Her dash clock was reading 9:25, and she was sure that when she walked right back into 343 a very annoyed Brianna was going to be waiting for her, grumpy because she hadn't gotten her burger fix yet.  
  
She hadn't done anything with Jess, nothing at all. Yet it took all of her willpower to tear herself away from his company when the loudspeaker in the bookstore nagged at them that they were closing in ten minutes, and they better get out of there or else.  
  
So why was she sitting in that big stuffed leather chair earlier, feeling like she was going to drift off to sleep with the soothing tone of Jess' Brooklyn accent reading aloud the third chapter to a book she was supposed to loathe with everything she had in her?  
  
If she ever happened to cross paths with Jack Kerouac, she was going to wring his neck. And then damn him for making her like him.  
  
The journey into the bookstore started out innocently enough. They walked in around 7:15, and Jess made his way to the 20th century section, while she browsed non-fiction. She paged through the various texts she came upon, including several on the Dark Ages, and one which piqued her curiousity. _Jiminez is going to eat his hat after he hears me recite these facts! _She looked over the $30 book on journalistic ethics, which seemed to be very detailed and meticulous on it's facts as she skimmed through the pages of the paperback. She also snuck in a couple of mind candy books, one of them a best of compilation from a comedy news quiz show she listened to loyally each weekend on public radio, and a romance novel which she was sure Brianna was going to swipe from her the moment she brought it into the dorm. They had already been like cats and dogs when it came to which book they would get for nighttime reading, Paris still had a small scar on her arm from when her and Brianna had fought on their second night to read a historical romance. It was meant to be fun though, but Brianna's zeal to read the book had overwhelmed the shorter girl, and she went to bed licking her wounds and reading a dull book on World War II.  
  
Her and Jess met up in the middle of the store around eight, and she was ready to go, but Jess decided to make a move to endear him to her further. Even if she was going to kick and scream about it.  
  
He handed her a copy of Jack Kerouac's _On the Road_ that he picked off the shelf moments ago, looking at her sincerely.  
  
"For you, I figure you need something to take your mind of school one of these days." He smiled at her snidely, and she looked wide-eyed at the cover of the book.  
  
"Jess, you know I hate Kerouac with every fibre, why would you want to buy me one of his books?" She took the book from him and tried to walk around Jess, in an attempt to put it back. However, the 5'3" girl was no match for the much taller Jess. Even in her short mules.  
  
"And what are you basing this on Paris? At least tell me that you've read the book."  
  
"I have."  
  
"And what forum did you read it in?"  
  
"I read it in school."  
  
"And in what form did you read it in? Was it a copy of the entire book, or in the form of a unit in a literature text where you got two chapters of the book, then some self-absorbed pablum about how the book inspired some 50 year-old tenured loser at Amherst College?"  
  
Paris rolled her eyes up towards the ceiling. Somehow, Jess had cornered her in when it came to her dislike of the Beat Generation. "Two chapters, then onto Ginsburg, that's about all that Literature Horizons 10 from Houghton Mifflin had to say about the subject of writing in the 60s."  
  
"That's pathetic, I thought Chilton asked for the best in textbooks. Seriously, you'd think they'd focus on such great writing like that."  
  
"They spent it all on the plaid skirts," she joked rather morosely. "Besides, I'd sooner subscribe to _Weekly World News _than read Kerouac."  
  
"Paris, it's like brussel sprouts, you're either gonna like him or you won't." Jess made his way to a reading corner set up in the back of the bookstore, where a dim reading light sat on an end table, highlighting two big overstuffed leather chairs. "Please Smartie, at least give him a chance and let me read some chapters of it to you. I promise you that you won't be disappointed." He offered out his hand, as if asking Paris to give him back the volume so he could read it to her.  
  
In Paris' mind, it reminded her of Francisca reading to her at bedside when she was four, little Rissy tucked into her new 'big girls's bed', as she called it, wearing a My Little Pony nightgown and asking her nanny to read her a story. The woman could read _Goodnight Moon _wonderfully even with her broken English, and nights after that were spent basking in that wonderful memory, and her younger self wishing everyone and everything from her father, her St. Bernard Dreyfuss, and things like her books, bed and window goodnight. She even remembered saying goodnight to the water heater and ping-pong table one night when she was down in the basement playroom.  
  
That moment really reminded Paris of her situation then, to a point. She wasn't exactly trying to avoid her feelings for a certain well-read Brooklynite when she was four, and she had matured since then. But she was still thinking of Jamie, and how her trust in him that had built up slowly until she bedded him, then was lost when she was told she was wrong. She was scared to even befriend Jess, and was just slightly scared that if she were going to be his girlfriend, she would lose him, just like Rory did when he fled here to Los Angeles.  
  
Her inner monologue was conflicted. She had promised herself no boys until at least sophomore year, that they would just be a distraction. _But then again, it's Jess. What do I do?  
_  
"Paris?" Jess asked, noticing her state of distraction. "Do you want me to read it to you or not?"  
  
His voice was kind towards her, and she had decided to go ahead and listen to him read the book. _I have nothing to lose, if I don't like it I can just tune him out,_ she thought as she smiled and offered the book to him.  
  
"OK, why not Jess, lead the way." He nodded in kind, and they walked towards the chairs, Paris on the left and Jess to the right diagonal of the table. She settled into the comfy chair, and slipped her shoes off as she prepared herself to be taken into a world she thought she hated when it came to literature. Jess slipped right into the book, forgoing the introduction and reading the words off the page as if they were lyrics to a well-known #1 song. For once, Paris decided to stay silent and not debate the book, as she lost herself in Jess' voice, as if she didn't want anything to distract from that distinct tone of voice.  
  
About a half hour later, Jess was into chapter three, and he had slowed down his reading a little upon noticing the blonde across from him was starting to nod off and seem distracted. He used this opportunity, knowing the words of the third chapter by heart already, to fake reading the words on the page, while at the same time, taking a look at the girl sitting across from him. A year and a half later, and Paris had only seemed to become more beautiful in his eyes. Her figure was just as voluptuous as it was that night, and her choice to forgo the sweaters and cords of her former wardrobe was drawing his eyes down from her face and towards her upper body. The right strap of her white bra was tempting him, peeking out from beneath her top and beckoning him to start a long kiss up from the bare skin of her shoulder, and towards the long column of her neck, where his eyes were drawn to the little brown beauty mark resting perfectly in the middle of the left side of her neck. He never knew such a mole could be erotic, but when it came to Paris Gellar, you had to take eroticism wherever you could find it.  
  
His eyes kept being distracted from the book, yet he kept on reading from his head as Paris drifted in and out of the slumber from his comforting reading, and at the same time wishing that his fingers could run through her long blonde hair, tied back in the braid. He wanted to unfurl it and brush the hair contained for hours at a time for her, listening to her sighs as the brush in his hands ran down the straight hair slowly, and causing tremors of pleasure to course through her scalp. A quick thought of him using the braid for leverage flashed through his mind, but he willed it out quickly. He didn't want to think of Paris in such a corrupt way, he'd rather get to know the real her first than imagine a girl who was unlike the real one in any way. Occasionally, Paris would nod when she was in an awake moment, as if to ask him to keep going, and he complied.  
  
Until tonight, Jess couldn't imagine Paris wearing blue jeans at all. But there she was in a pair of 501's, trimmed to her figure and highlighting her legs to him so wonderfully. His gaze, after being stuck on her knees for a bit for an inexplicable reason, drifted all the way up to her waist, where a tempting sliver of skin awaited him between the shirt and waistband. _Great, now we're back on the breasts again! _he whined to himself in silence, as his eyes moved back to the book when he thought Paris was about to open her eyes wide again. He stopped looking at the heiress, and read from the book for the rest of the time they spent at the shop. Jess wanted to stay there all night with her, reading aloud the book until he had reached the last page of the work.  
  
But reality set in when the loudspeaker came on and announced the end of the business day. "Please bring your purchases to the front register," the lady over the intercom said, and Paris found herself wide awake, albeit tired. By now the late local news would have ended in Connecticut, and Paris was having a heck of a time getting used to going to bed three hours later than she used to.  
  
She shuffled herself in the chair and stretched out as Jess bent back a page in the book to mark the place he left off for the girl he was buying the book for. Jess averted his gaze as best he could, but he found himself taking a quick glance towards her bellybutton, exposed by her rising shirt, and liking what he had saw. He was hoping he could keep it to himself, but he had slipped up on his staring for the first time. Jess prepared for the oncoming wrath that Paris was sure to give him for staring at her in such a sexually blatant way.  
  
Instead however, Paris smiled at him.  
  
"No, I'm not getting that pierced, if that's the idea in your head there rebel boy."  
  
He laughed, relieved that his wandering eyes weren't being considered a bad thing around the academic beauty. "No offense Par, but your bellybutton is cute enough as it is. Your nose with the shiny piercing though, now that's really looking nice." He helped her bring her books up to the counter, and Paris once again was trying to hold off a blush. _He better quit this, Reb's giving me an ego,_ she thought to herself as he put the books down on the counter. The clerk rung up their purchases, and they walked out of the bookstore, knowing that this was certainly not their last visit to the store in downtown Santa Monica. Paris drove Jess back to the In-and-Out lot so that he could pick up his car. It was then she realized the time.  
  
"God, I really lost track of time Jess, I should've been home at 7:30 so I could get some studying in," she grumbled as she climbed out of her Jaguar, and walked with Jess towards his car.  
  
"Paris, don't panic, you have so much time before you really get into the hard stuff. Take the time to relax, get a tan, do something for yourself." He smiled at her as he took his keys out of his pocket.  
  
"Jess, I never tan well, I think I'm meant to be pale forever."  
  
He shook his head at her, not believing how humble Paris was trying to be about herself. "You're a summer, and you have a little Spanish blood in you, so you're meant to be tan. In Connecticut you could only get a tan when you were working hard for charity in the summer. In LA, you can get one just walking back and forth between classes."  
  
Paris stumbled for words, she had never heard that beauty theory before. And he had gotten part of her ancestry right. "Um, how did you know I have some Spanish in me?"  
  
"I just can sense it in you. There's a drive in you to succeed at everything you do, like General Franco in the Spanish civil war in the 30s. You're stubborn as you possibly can get, and there's passion in you Paris. And if you ask me, you're very colorful, especially beneath the dim light of a bookstore." The words he said he couldn't believe himself, he never talked like this towards Rory or any of the girls in Brooklyn.  
  
But this was Paris, and she was a different creature altogether. She wasn't just a girl to Jess. She was someone who wanted him to be better. Even if she had never said it, she wanted more than Jess Mariano, high school dropout. He knew in order to win her trust he'd have to graduate from high school, and enroll himself in a good college. She wasn't the girl who would let a guy drag her down with him, and he didn't want to be that weight on that shoulder.  
  
"Thank you Jess, I may consider your tanning advice after all," she responded, suddenly feeling that doing something for herself might be a nice thing to consider. She wanted to blush at his compliment again, but three times in one night was just about enough for her.  
  
"I think you should, you're not a southern Californian until you get one that isn't out of the bottle." Paris laughed at his joke, but knew the time for stalling his leaving was soon to end. Her watch now read 9:05, and she was sure Brianna was organizing a search party with Doug and Ronnie back at the Saxons.  
  
"So, I guess this is goodbye," she said, looking down at the ground.  
  
"For now Par, only for now. We'll see each other again soon." He looked into Paris' deep browns one more time, trying to take a photograph for his mind so he wouldn't forget her face in a sea of 16 million others in the nation's second largest metropolis.  
  
"That we will Mariano, I'm sure of it." She looked at him confidently, and knew that somehow, this was only the beginning of a beautiful friendship.  
  
"Well, I'm sure I'm going to see you around town again Paris, so until we meet again, take care of yourself." Jess smiled at her, and offered out his hand, which Paris took into hers and shook.  
  
"You too Jess, have a nice first day at school, and say hi to Jimmy for me, if he's not too busy selling hot dogs on the pier." She held his hand in the shake for a few seconds later than usual, and then let go with a lot of hesitation. It was just as tough for Jess to let go of Paris too, her slender hand felt so right inside of his.  
  
"I'll be sure to tell him that. Goodbye Smartie." He walked away from Paris and towards his father's classic Beetle, leaving Paris staring at him, and somehow a simple stare on her part turned into an extended ogle of his backside.  
  
_Stop it Par, right now! This is inappropriate behavior_, the angelic part of her conscience was warning her. But her other side was encouraging her on. _Who's it going to hurt, not a soul Paris. It's a free show, take it in._ And that she did until the boy who had wormed her way back into her life had pulled out of the parking lot, and the only thing she could see with him was the yellow streak of his car going down Wilshire.  
  
She could feel the sexual tension starting to build up in her from the moment she laid eyes on Jess once again, it built up throughout the night within her. And as she started her car and prepared to leave the parking lot, she realized that she had forgotten to ask one important question to Jess.  
  
"Damn it, I forgot to get his friggin' number!" In true Paris fashion, she would have tried to catch up to him on the streets of Santa Monica, but instead settled for pounding her head on the steering wheel, cursing her romantic stupidity once again.  
  
_We're just friends, if I want his number it's not for romance. We're just friends, if I want his number it's not for romance..._She kept repeating that mantra in her head, but her hopeless romantic side shut it out with two simple words.  
  
_Yeah right._ She resigned herself, borrowing an old Washington phrase that was used to describe the city's former baseball team, the Senators. She was first in academics, first in book smarts, but last when it came to falling in love.  
  
"No use in delaying the inevitable," she told herself as she pulled into the In-and-Out drive thru to order for Brianna, dreading the reaction of her roommate when she walked back into her dorm.  


* * *

She walked into her dorm room carrying the books she bought, and Brianna was laying on her beanbag chair, watching a rerun of _Law and Order _on the TV, but not very interested in the plot. Paris walked in, and her dark-haired girl looked at the blonde, kind of fuming, but at the same time not surprised.  
  
"You got lost in LA, didn't you?" Brianna asked as she got up from the chair, and Paris handed over the bag of food.  
  
"I didn't stray out of Santa Monica Bree, I wasn't lost."  
  
"So what took so long, book buying, a maxi run and a stop at In-and-Out never take three hours." She sat on her bed and took a couple of Paris' books, including the one Jess had bought her.  
  
"I just got distracted, that's all Bree. It's my first time out all alone and I wanted to see the sights." Paris was trying her best to avoid bringing up the real reason she had been late coming home.  
  
"Yeah, so distracted I don't see a Sav-On bag in your hands."  
  
Paris opened up her dresser and took a nightgown out of the bottom drawer. "I just wasn't ready yet, I have six days to go. Nothing happened tonight, it was just a night out on the town in Santa Monica, that's all." She watched Brianna take the food out of her bag and crack open a can of 7Up from the mini-fridge. "You need the bathroom?"  
  
"No, go ahead, I'm comfy." Brianna was already decked out in her sleepwear, green scrub pants and her old Antioch volleyball jersey.  
  
"OK, and I'm sorry again. I just lost track of time, that's all." Paris walked into the small bathroom and shut the door, and started to change out of her clothes. "By the way, Doug agreed to pool on doughnuts for the rest of the year, he's going to buy for us and Ronnie Tuesdays and Thursdays."  
  
"That's great, I hope this means they're done with the whole alpha-male act," Brianna shouted as she got comfy on her bed with _On the Road_. She liked the book, but had always forgotten to buy it back at home.  
  
"I threatened him with a very evil male injury girl, he and Ronnie are done being crude towards us." Paris buttoned up the gown, and walked out of the bathroom, throwing her clothes into a small basket in the corner of the room, marked with her name next to her roommate's own hamper.  
  
"Thank God, one more comment about how I have a butt that won't quit and I was going to not quit kicking his ass." Brianna opened up the book, and as she skimmed it, something fell out from the middle of the book. A piece of folded paper fell into her lap, and her sharp eye noticed within moments what was marked on the paper.  
  
Paris walked up to Brianna's bed, and the girl held up the piece of paper to her friend. "I believe this is yours Par, how did it land in here?" She took the paper reading _to Par_ on the front and unfolded it, thinking it was just a note from Jess of where to find the best passages from the book.  
  
Her mouth dropped open as she read the words to herself in her mind.  
  
_Paris,  
  
Had a great time tonight, hope we can do it again soon.  
  
Jess  
  
Phone me @ (313) 565-1652  
Address 67 Thornton Ct, Venice  
Target hours, Sun-Thurs from 4:30 till 9.  
  
P.S. Now tell me you loathe Kerouac Smartie, I dare you!  
P.P.S I knew you'd forget this small little detail, so I wrote this up during one of your sleepy periods at the bookstore, hope you didn't mind.  
  
_"No I didn't," she answered aloud, startling Brianna.  
  
"Didn't what?"   
  
"I bumped into a guy I knew from Connecticut tonight, we were out for three hours and that's why I was late." Paris was in a sort of state of shock and awe.  
  
"Really?" Brianna smiled at Paris, wanting to know more. "Got a photo of him?"  
  
"No, I don't, and I doubt we'll be more than friends, it just wouldn't work right now." She took _On the Road_ back from Brianna, and folded the note back into the middle of the volume.  
  
"Yes Paris, I'm sure he offered you his number because he just wants to be friends with you. Uh-huh." Brianna rolled her eyes, and lay back on her bed.  
  
"I'm telling the truth, I can't go out with him, it's that simple. He's my best friend's ex, and there's an unwritten rule that you have to wait at least a year or two before you even consider going out with an ex-boyfriend."  
  
"True Ris, but there's another rule that nullifies it."  
  
"There isn't, I'm sure. It's like the First Amendment to the Constitution, you can't change the wording of the actual document, you can only add on amendments."  
  
"Oh come on, Rory gave up her rights to...name?"  
  
"Jess," Paris said, completing the sentence and letting Brianna continue.  
  
"Yes, she gave up her rights to Jess, and now that you're separated by thirteen or fourteen states, how is she going to find out--"  
  
"Bree, I can't go out with Jess, I don't even know him that well. We saw each other once a few months before they became a couple, and that's it. This is about only the third time I've had a deep conversation with him. And I can't hurt Rory like that."  
  
"Even if you harbor a crush on him?"  
  
"I'm not crushing on him Brianna, we're just friends!" she insisted.  
  
"Yeah, friends who bump into each other in a town they've never been in before, yet don't know who they really are spend three hours out together. Come on Gellar, if you had happened to see Jamie, you would've been avoiding him like the plague and down at the Hall of Justice filing a RO on him. This guy, you've known less than twelve hours altogether, yet you already have his phone number, not to mention his address and work schedule."  
  
"Because we know each other from Connecticut, that's all. He played the friend card tonight, and I'm going to keep it for awhile."  
  
"That's a good idea Paris, but can you honestly say that when you open up that copy of _On the Road_ when you do your bedtime reading, you won't be thinking of an author you loathe, but instead the guy you love because he gave you the book?"  
  
Paris sternly looked down at Brianna, wanting to end the conversation before it could go any further. "I don't love him Daugherty, we're friends, that's it! I'm serious, and not about to go down that road with him." To try to convince Brianna further, she even added in another point sure to shoot down the girl's assertions. "I couldn't go out with him even if I wanted to, my mother would throw a fit because I was dating someone beneath me financially!"  
  
"I thought you weren't buddy-buddy with your mother," Brianna shot back. Paris' futile argument went up in flames. "You can try to deny it Paris, but you want him. All the sudden he finds his way back into your life, and you want to befriend him once again. And there has to be some physical attraction there, from what you've told me about yourself you were a conservative dresser back in Hartford. He has an interest in you, any girl would kill to have boobs like yours Par."  
  
"Don't talk about them, please! I don't like the attention they get from guys!" Paris screamed back at Brianna, now getting annoyed that she was trying to make more of this situation out to be something else altogether. "Geez, it's not like you're UCLA's #1 dater yourself, how do you know all of this stuff?"  
  
"Observation," she said back simply and sweetly. "Forget I brought this all up then, we have to be in class tomorrow at seven, so we should get some rest and not be at each other's throats." She turned around in her bed to face Paris, who was laying down herself. "We'll talk more about this Saturday afternoon, and I'll ease up on you for now about it, alright?"  
  
"Fine, you're right Bree. I'm sorry I yelled at you, I just have this set plan in my head, and involves no dating this year. And um, no more mentions of my breast size, please? I want a guy to be impressed by my intelligence, not my cup size."  
  
"It's alright Par, but you just need to relax a little." Brianna opened up her newest romance novel and started eating her food. "How about we both hit the tanning booths Saturday and have a girl's day out on the town. Help us forget about this first weird UCLA week."  
  
Paris smiled back at her friend, and pulled at her hair to undo her braid in the back. "Sounds like a plan Brianna. I'm not usually a tanner, but it might make me feel more at ease here." She set the rubber bands used to hold the braid in place next to her nightstand, and took her sleep mask and put it on over her eyes. "I'm going to bed then Brianna, goodnight." She turned off her bedside lamp and turned around as her head searched for the cold side of the pillow.  
  
"Night Paris, and your nose, don't forget."  
  
Paris felt around her face and found her nose ring was still in place. She mumbled out a thanks to Brianna as she took it out and set it on the nightstand. Then she settled in for sleep, but not before a couple of thoughts settled into her mind.  
  
_Funny she would want me to get a tan, because I was going to ask her anyways_, she thought to herself. The second one was about Jess' little line in his note about how she would like Kerouac after he read her his work. She still had a little disdain for the guy's writing, but now she could understand where Jack was coming from when he wrote that book. It hadn't been made all that clear when she was reading the book chapters back in 10th grade. The guy was growing on her, and no longer would she compare his writing to yellow journalism.  
  
Then there was one last one, about Jess. What was she going to do if she kept seeing him, and there were thoughts of loving him? That question plagued her as she fell into her REM state, along with another disturbing scenario where her dream self decided that one of the oversized chairs in the bookstore was the perfect place to conduct a meticulous seduction of him, which included making out with the ruffian and plenty of disrobing.  
  
_I think a cold shower is in order tomorrow morning. A **very** cold shower! _She fell asleep, not with Professor Jimenez's class on her mind, but thoughts of a certain black-haired rebel boy getting to her once again, and yearning for her heart.  
  
Brianna looked at her sleeping roommate as she finished reading her chapter and brought the covers closer to her. She couldn't help it, there was something she was seeing in Paris that was different from the girl she had been sharing a room with for the last five days.  
  
"Paris is in love. She just needs time for the realization to sink in." She said it quietly, and set the book down, smiling at Paris as she shut her eyes and went to sleep.  
  
But her last thought of the night was a wish of her own.  
  
_Why can't I have a conflict of the heart like her? _Brianna thought before she fell into sleep.  
  
"I love you Brianna," a boy down the hall in 319 said to himself as he settled into his bed. Doug Merriweather wanted to be Brianna's boyfriend, and if that meant becoming a better man than he had been towards her and Paris the first week, he was going to make sure he was the best man he could be for Antioch's valedictorian.  


* * *

Meanwhile in Venice, Jess lay on his bed around midnight, looking up at his ceiling. He had been debating with himself whether slipping the note into Paris' book was the best idea, and was now feeling conflicted. He had never left a phone number for any girl before, because they always knew where his apartment was. But this was LA, and even an overachiever like Paris wouldn't be able to memorize every street on the grid. It was risky, but if it worked, there was no doubt that leaving his phone number and address was going to be a good decision in the end.  
  
"Well, the ball is now in your court Smartie. Here's hoping it comes back towards me," he told himself as he crawled into bed, and wished to himself that he wouldn't have a dream about Paris that night, innocent or corrupted.  
  
His wish didn't come true for him that night. As for the outcome of the dream, think the latter.  


* * *

To be continued...  
  
**Next Chapter: **And so it begins, Paris and Jess start to dance around their building feelings for each other caused by that simple meeting in Santa Monica, as Paris tries to balance school with her suddenly blossoming social life. Brianna tries to keep her promise she won't date any guy solid, but Doug's trying hard to pierce the armor that she built up after the _Jeopardy! _incident, what will happen with them? Meanwhile, Paris meets Jimmy the Hot Dog King, and finds herself in quite a quandary on whether to tell Rory she saw Jess. Will she break down and spill the beans, or keep her mouth shut about it?  



	4. First 'Dates' and Soul Circles

**Title: Bruins and Rebels | Chapter Four | First 'Dates' and Soul Circles  
Author: **Nate  
**Pairing:** Paris/Jess, and couplings with the ancillary characters introduced in later chapters.  
**Spoilers:** The big one would be the Jess/Milo spin-off series, which takes the Jess character to Venice, CA with his father. Otherwise it's unlikely I'm spoiling any of the upcoming plots. The earth-shattering and horrible news from _The Big One_ is included and a major factor in the story.  
**Rating:** Hard PG-13 (swearing, suggestive sexual innuendo, corrupted thoughts and dialogue). The R point isn't coming for several other chapters, so if you're not into an R story, breath easy for now.  
**Disclaimer:** Amy Sherman-Palladino, Hofflund-Pollone and Warner Bros. Television along with the newer companies involved with the spin-off own the Paris and Jess characters. Pacific Bell is a division of SBC. Other trademarks are owned by their respective companies. And unless I can ever get to LA and bid in one of those wacky 'own a celebrity for a day' auctions, Liza Weil is never going to be my 'Brown-Eyed Girl' (pouts).  
**Archiving: **Usual suspects; FF.net and LWL. Make sure to ask if you want to archive it yourself.  
**Summary:** When Paris calls Jess on a Friday night, she offers to help him study and he comes over to the Saxons. But they both have other things in mind for the evening, which leads to some very close calls when it comes to their feelings for each other. Brianna has her own problems when her night doesn't go as planned, and she becomes embarrassed and flushed when she sees something she doesn't expect on a visit to another student's dorm.  
**Author's** **Notes:** I do type a lot, don't I? This was one of those tough middle chapters where I didn't have an idea for how it goes until the last minute, but this just came to me and I ran with it (yes, for a month, but good stories do take time). I like how it turned out, though I shall fully live up to the Trory-coined title of "The Male Pooh" due to the length of this chapter, heh. It also hasn't helped that ShowParis was bed-ridden after the Harvard rejection and the whole nose ring plot was carried out badly by ASP's spin-off fogged mind. But Paris will get better by the end of the season I'm sure, and Liza continues to play her awesomely no matter how trite the role is in an episode.  
  
Thanks to the Angels for encouragement over the last month, Chris, Jamie and Ash are doing the betaing once again, which I would be lost without, and Mala for continuing to dole out the UC love, despite her not wanting to write a Luke/Luke fic ;). Also, a personal thanks to a certain ff.net reviewer for inspiring a new character which is true to her form (you'll have to read to find out who). I hope that she enjoys her insertion into the story, with more words than usual. Also thanks to Gracie for keeping Gilmore Girls fanfiction likable and sane with the P&P site, and Priya for her great reviews. Also, thanks for Kait for keeping a leash on Chris' ego.  
  
I've talked enough, it's time to zip it and let the story tell itself, so read on...  


* * *

Paris looked down at the piece of paper she held in her hand, the same one that dropped out of a book and into Brianna's sight last Thursday night. Her fingers ran against the upper part of the paper, where the spiral holes were torn apart when Jess had ripped it out of his memopad.  
  
"Why is this so hard?" she nagged at herself, reading Jess' writing over and over again as if it was the Rosetta Stone and she was trying to unearth its secrets. It was Friday night, eight days after that first meeting in Santa Monica, and her shy side, hidden after she determined UCLA was her school of choice, had reset itself within her. Every time Brianna had left the room, Paris found herself sitting on one of the stools next to the kitchenette's peninsula counter, trying to gather up the courage to stretch her arm out and pick up the phone sitting at the end of the counter. The beige object seemed to call for her to pick it up and dial those seven digits to try to talk to Jess, but every time over the last week she considered calling, she had second thoughts. The thoughts hadn't plagued her through any of her course work, but there were just times when Brianna just would never understand the mind that belonged to Paris Gellar.  
  
So there she sat in that familiar position, looking at the phone. She had plenty of time to take action on her need to call Jess this Friday evening, seeing as Brianna was out with classmates touring the Democratic Party headquarters downtown for a field trip in one of her classes. Why on a Friday night Brianna couldn't figure out, but she figured any opportunity to learn more about the inner workings of a major political party would give her a coup when it came to extra credit points.  
  
Paris had walked around the room a few times after she left, and flipped the TV onto KCET to take her mind off Jess for a bit with a little bit of _Washington Week with Gwen Ifill_. That distraction was short-lived however as the talking heads around the table kept yapping on and on about another Bush health care plan that was sure to fail in the Senate, and frankly Paris was sick of it. She was back on the stool twenty minutes later, nursing a bottle of Diet Coke and thinking about what she would say to Jess once he picked up the phone. Thoughts of confessing love in just one short phone call were off the table, and Paris determined that friendly inquiries were probably the best way to go. "Yeah, just act like a friend, that's the ticket." She had made up her mind, and it was now or never, she had to call Jess.  
  
She read the number to herself aloud as she picked up the receiver and dialed each of the seven digits. "5-6-5-1-6-5-2." She cleared her throat and awaited the ringing tone.  
  
She didn't get it however. Instead, she got Pac Bell's friendly automated operator notifying her seven-digit dialing was as out of style in LA as the sitcom, supermodels, and action movies starring lunkheads from Eastern Europe with little knowledge of the English language. "Please hang up and try your call again," she pleaded to Paris, before cutting her off rudely.  
  
Paris could only sigh and try again. "Fine, I'll dial eleven digits, but I'm not happy with it. Why don't these phone companies get logical and add in an extra number to the first three numbers, voila! It's 100 million combinations of numbers instead of just 10 million a code." Done complaining to herself about the incompetence of the Bell System, she proceeded to dial the number again, adding the 1-313 on at the beginning.  
  
This time, she was successful in receiving a ringing tone. She felt a chill go up her spine at the realization that she was calling a guy, a guy who had given her his phone number. Jamie never did that for her, she had to ask him herself for the digits. But this time, Jess obliged her wish without even having to have her ask for it. Now all she could hope for was that last week wasn't just a fluke and that he had already forgotten their accidental meeting at In-and-Out.  
  
She listened to the phone ring a second time. Then a third. She was afraid of the fourth, which meant Jess wasn't really home and she'd have to listen to a horrid greeting from the answering machine or the mechanical voice of doom from a voice mailbox.  
  
But she didn't have to deal with a message, because someone did pick up the phone.  
  
"Hello, Marianos," The voice heard on the other end was the gruff voice of a middle-aged man. Paris assumed this was the father Jess was talking about, Jess' voice sounded much more unique to her.  
  
_And sexually arousing_, she thought to herself. She snapped to attention on that thought, trying to will it out of her head, and continue the conversation without corrupted thoughts.  
  
"Yes, would I be able to speak to Jess please?" Her phone etiquette had been highly developed, and this made Mr. Mariano uncomfortable.  
  
"Hey, you ain't one of those stupid telemarketers? Because my son already has enough credit and doesn't need vinyl siding."  
  
"No, no sir, I assure you I'm not involved with that business," she said in haste. "Is he there? This is Paris, and Jess gave me this number--"  
  
"Sorry, I don't take international calls." Paris heard the retreating sound of his voice, then the sound of a soft beep from his cordless phone. Then, a dialtone.  
  
"Damn it!" She growled as she pressed down on the cradle hook to reset the line, and dialed the number again. A couple of people had hung up on her when she said her name and assumed they were calling to France instead of Hartford, which made Paris regret that she hadn't changed her legal name to her middle name, Eustacia the day she turned sixteen.  
  
But she decided against it because she really wasn't Eustacia-ish at all. She was definitely a Paris, a one of a kind. Even if her mother cursed her with such a weird name. _At least it isn't Moonflower or Periwinkle_, she thought as she dialed again and listened for Mr. Mariano to pick up.  
  
"Hello, Marianos."  
  
"Yes, can I speak to Jess?"  
  
"Who is this?"  
  
Paris tried another strategy to get past the roadblock of Mr. Mariano. "Paris Gellar, Jess--"  
  
"I already told you ma'am, I don't take international calls." He hung up the phone again, and Paris was starting to seethe.  
  
"Fucking idiot!" she cursed, pressing the cradle hook once again and resetting the line. "Third time's a charm," she said sarcastically as she dialed the number again, and let the line ring. This time there was no way Mr. Mariano was going to stand in the way of her talking to Jess.  
  
As soon as he picked up the phone and said "Hello?" with some agitation in his voice, she started to try to wear him down.  
  
"Sir, would you happen to have a caller ID box?"  
  
Jimmy huffed and looked down at the phone stand. "Yes I do, near the phone, and on the phone's display."  
  
"Could you read me the name and number that displayed when the phone rang moments ago?" She was going to prove this commoner wrong, even if it took basic logic to argue her position.  
  
"Um, let me bend down to read it..." She heard some papers shuffling and the sound of a little feedback on Jimmy's end of the line, along with a soft cough. Finally, he was in position to read the caller ID's display. "OK, it says here 313-753-3294, and the name displayed is P. Gellar. I don't know what this has to do with you being in France miss--"  
  
A plug-sized spark flickered a small nightlight bulb in Jimmy's small mass of cerebral flesh that somehow was called a brain. "Ooh, you mean you're not in France?"  
  
Paris rolled her eyes up as she curled the phone cord around her index finger. "No, the 313 code is along the coast, remember sir? I'm Paris, Jess' friend."  
  
"What kind of name is Paris, that sounds really--"  
  
"Don't even start with me Mr. Mariano, I know I have a weird name and if you hate it, big whoop. My mother named me Paris, and although there are times I've wanted to change it, I've decided not to."  
  
"You want to talk to Jess," Jimmy asked. "Well he's here, but how do you know him?"  
  
"From Connecticut, I was his ex-girlfriend's classmate."  
  
"You knew Rory?"  
  
"She's my best friend."  
  
"Well what are you doing here?"  
  
"UCLA, journalism major. Me and Jess saw each other at In-and-Out in Santa Monica last week, got to talking, then he gave me his phone number."  
  
Jimmy smiled as Paris described the circumstances that led to the two meeting. "Good, good. I've been trying to get Jess to make more friends out here, but so far he's been withdrawn since we moved to Venice."  
  
Paris was starting to warm up to Jimmy Mariano somehow. She could sense that he really was trying to be a good parent to Jess, even if he only knew the boy for just a little under four months. "You want to talk to Jess then Paris?"  
  
"Sure, that is why I called. But it was nice talking to you sir, even if it took a couple of tries to get a clue." She put sarcasm in her voice to hint to Jimmy that she was just kidding. She heard a laugh on the other end.  
  
"Your welcome, I'll have Jess take the call in his room." Paris heard Mr. Mariano set his cordless on a table, then shouting to his son.  
  
"Hey Jess, your Paris friend is on the line!"  
  
Down the hall from the phone, Jess sat in his bedroom, pondering some of the science homework his new high school had saddled on him. His ears piqued upon hearing Paris' name, and he dropped his biology book onto his bed.  
  
"Thanks Pop, and her name IS Paris! Sorry I didn't tell you before about her, you had a long night at the hot dog stand when you came home!"  
  
"It's fine, it was a nice surprise!" Jimmy yelled back. Jess walked over to his phone's base unit, and pickup the line.  
  
"OK, close the line!"  
  
"Got it!" Paris was wishing that they had gotten a two line phone in that house. She didn't care to hear father and son bounce back and forth a conversation before one of them picked up the phone. She was half-expecting a heated game of Dozens to start, with various reasons the mother was something or other.  
  
She heard Jimmy's phone hang up, and Jess open up his connection. He belonged to her, phonewise at least. Paris spoke first, as she picked up the base and walked with it to her bed, the handset locked onto her shoulder.  
  
"Hello Jess, I thought I'd call and see what you were doing at home on a Friday night." She lay on her bed and rested her head on her pillow.  
  
"Being frustrated with my bio homework and wishing I was about three years older so I could hit the bar scene. You?"  
  
"Doing the same thing I've done every Friday night since I was 14, watching PBS' Friday night lineup and pondering why I always do homework before 6pm, no matter what I need to do before or after that time. I'm so bored right now that I've overreviewed my notes for advanced calculus about four or five times since I got home." She huffed and kicked off her shoes, which she had forgotten to take off after she got back from class five hours earlier.  
  
"Aww, and here I thought you and LA were going to make such wonderful bedfellows Par. There's an entire city out there that's calling your name, why don't you head out and see the sights?"  
  
"Three words; Labor Day weekend. Most everyone on my floor is already out on the town, and I was planning a trip to the Griffith Observatory later. Too bad I just checked out their website an hour ago and found out they're closed for the next three years due to renovation."  
  
"There has to be something to do, a girl like you shouldn't be sitting in her dorm with nothing to do on a Friday night." Jess was trying to think up something for her to do in LA, or at least something he could do for her to wile away the many hours that remained between eight o'clock and about three on Saturday morning.  
  
He looked down at his biology homework, which was starting to look like a hellish mess. His attempt at an example of a DNA helix turned out to look more like a warped snake than a building block of life, because he had done lots of flipping back and forth between the figure in his text and the drawing in his notebook for a compare and contrast. And he was definitely sure that about 7 out of his 24 work questions had answers which were sure to get the wrath of Mrs. Tumwater's red pencil. _See, this is exactly the reason writing is my future_, he thought as his mind figured out what to do about giving Paris and him something to do on a Friday night. After a moment for pause, inspiration hit him, as the image of his Blockbuster card sitting on his nightstand added fuel to his idea's fire.  
  
"Well braniac, found something for me to do?" Paris asked, her eyes drifting between the fading sunlight of her window and the end of the budget debate on public television.  
  
"Studying and a movie perhaps?" He asked sincerely. "This biology homework is giving me fits, and although my dad is cool, he's been sending me signals that he wants me out of the house tonight. I think he's bringing over a girl and doesn't want his son to ruin his chances at getting lucky."  
  
"I hope he didn't hear that," Paris said, then she laughed. "Don't you have any friends at Venice High who can help you with it?"  
  
"Not yet Par, we only started down here on Tuesday. Besides, I can trust you to help me out, you have encyclopedic gray matter under that blonde hair of yours."  
  
Paris huffed a breath, trying to convey to Jess that she wasn't going to help him if she had to do his homework for him.  
  
"And I promise I won't have you do my homework. I've changed, and I just want you to help me get the best grade possible."  
  
"What movie?" She smiled, getting excited at the possibility of Jess coming over.  
  
"I'll find something at Blockbuster, anything new you want?"  
  
"The first half of the year always has the worst movies, no thanks. I'm thinking black and white romantic comedy, think you can find something based on that description?"  
  
"_The Philadelphia Story_, that's a great movie."  
  
"Mmmm, Cary Grant." She sighed, Jess had hit one of her weak spots. "That works for me Jess, are you on your way?"  
  
Jess grabbed his jacket off the foot of his bed and put it on, then started shoving stuff like his wallet, video card and keys into his pocket. "Yeah, I'll be up there in about a half-hour. 343 in the Saxons, right?"  
  
"Got it right Jess. I'll see you when you get here, we're getting right to studying the moment you get here though."  
  
"OK Paris, I'll see you soon." He shoved his schoolbooks into his book bag and threw it around his shoulder. "Bye."  
  
"Goodbye." She got up from her bed and hung the phone up, then picked it up and brought it back to the counter. She then walked around the counter, and made her way into the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror above the vanity.  
  
"Uggh, I look horrible," Paris groaned to herself. Her hair and face were fine, but she wasn't looking very fetching in her afterschool wardrobe of a white blouse and khaki pants. "Think, what did you used to wear for Jamie, Gellar? He came over two or three times..." She scowled upon realizing she was thinking of her idiot ex-boyfriend once again. She then replaced it with a nice memory, that of Jess' stare of approval at her choice of clothing last week when they bumped into each other.  
  
"I think I'll go with something along those lines, preferably a little more casual." She walked out of the bathroom and made her way to her dresser, just before she remembered she did her laundry to waste a couple hours earlier in the afternoon, and her drying cycle was just about over. So it was off to the community laundry room downstairs with her, as she shut her eyes and crossed her fingers that her inabilities in the kitchen hadn't spread to her wash.  


* * *

Paris managed to do her laundry pretty well, considering it was the only the fourth time she had ever done it herself, but really the first time since she was twelve (not counting the emergency load-in-a-robe she had to do in St. George). Nothing was shrunk or a different color, her socks still added up to an even number, and her delicates weren't flying on the flagpole in front of the building, taken by some fraternity pledge as a trophy. She was quite pleased with herself, and was smiling as she pushed the button for 3 on the elevator back up from the basement. By the time the elevator started its climb up the shaft, Paris had decided on a pair of grey sweatpants and a basic black shirt as her outfit for her study session with Jess. _That should keep me comfy, and his eyes on me_, she thought to herself as she held onto her clothes basket as if someone was going to steal it at any moment from her.  
  
The elevator stopped on the first floor, but Paris wasn't mad at first at that. Some of the library crowd was headed back to their dorms, and she was expecting a stop in the lobby on the way up to the third floor. She made her way to the corner of the shaft to accommodate the incoming crowd as the doors opened.  
  
She found only one girl waiting for the car, and as the peppy blonde walked into it, Paris groaned to herself at the luck of being stuck in the same place for 30 seconds with her new sworn enemy, her RA Piper.  
  
"Hello Paris, and how are you today?" The peppy girl asked in a squeaky voice, her clearly modified smile blinding our heroine with its utterly fake whiteness.  
  
"Fine Piper, just coming up from finishing my laundry." Paris looked down at her clothes, the better not to have to have her eyes besmirched by Piper, who personified California excess at it's worst. Piper was a trust fund honey blown to smithereens, what with her fully-Guccized outfit, obvious nip and tucks with her cheeks and chin, and a figure that would make even Calista Flockhart and Lara Flynn Boyle want to drag her out to Ponderosa for the all-you-can-eat steak special until she exploded. On top of her thin-rail figure were the not-so-small implants that made Paris thank her mother, father, and all of her descendents for having such good genes that she didn't need saline to fill out her figure.  
  
"Oooh, you did laundry? Did you make sure to leave a dryer sheet in for the next student so they just have to throw in their clothes and go?" Piper was the ultimate Valley Girl from Sherman Oaks who didn't have a redeeming bone in her body. The few girls who were friends with her weren't about to become Rhodes scholars anytime soon. Paris guessed that the only future Piper and her cronies had were in those NASCAR race team pin-up calendars mechanics drooled over when they got a free moment in-between fixing cars.  
  
"Yeah, I left in a sheet." Paris desperately tried to keep Piper from talking to her more, but the bleach blonde's eyes caught something in Paris' basket.  
  
"Ohmigod, I have that same color and same style of panties in my drawer! You are so cool Paris, I envy you!"  
  
A violent blush crept up Paris' face, and she shoved the offending article of clothing deep between a pair of slacks and a sweatshirt. "Shut up Piper, please, I don't really care what you wear, now leave me alone!" Paris groaned and tried to end the conversation, but Piper pressed on anyways.  
  
"Are you having a guy over tonight so you can model them for him?"  
  
_Apparently subtlety isn't Piper's strong suit, _Paris thought. She now wondered if that trick of pushing the floor button rapidly actually would speed up the elevator. She tried not to answer the question, but Piper kept asking it again multiple times.  
  
Paris had to shut her RA up, so grudgingly she gave in.  
  
"Yes I'm having a guy over, but we're only studying." _That should shut her cork.  
  
_"Remember, you can't have a guy here after midnight, so if you plan to get it on with him, he can't sleep here tonight!" Piper repeated the most important rule of dorm living, and Paris was relieved to hear the ding as the elevator car passed the second floor.  
  
"I know, I know, he can't be here after midnight, and if he's from outside the school he has to park in the visitor's lot. I read the rulebook, trust me!" Paris pushed her lingerie down to the lower levels of her basket, relieved to feel the push of gravity that signaled the end of the ride. "And he's not my boyfriend, we're not going to have sex!"  
  
"He's from outside UCLA? What is he, older, younger, rich, poor?"  
  
"Mind your own business, I'll just tell you he's a fifth year senior in Venice, and more importantly, Just. A. Friend!"  
  
"Someone has a fetish for younger men!" Piper teased. Paris rolled her eyes and used all of her willpower to keep the fist she was tempted to form in just her mind.  
  
"He's 18, just like me, get your mind out of the gutter!" The elevator doors opened, and Paris ran out of them post haste onto the third floor. "Bye Piper!" She walked down the hall, not even waiting for Piper's goodbye.   
  
Piper walked out of the elevator and the other way. "Bye Paris, I want an update, update, update later!" she shouted loudly and in a high tone, causing several other students in the hall to cover their ears as the annoying RA walked past them.  
  
"Geeze, I thought Saddam was bad, can we overthrow her?" a boy asked a girl. The girl shrugged and laughed. "We should've just sent her to Baghdad, it would've made for a very quick war." Then they went on their way, hoping the Admissions Board would come to their senses and hire a sane resident advisor who they actually wanted to be friends with as soon as possible.  


* * *

Paris shoved her wash basket off to the side when she walked into her room, grabbed her chosen outfit from the basket and ran to the bathroom to quick change before Jess came. After running a brush through her hair, she shuffled around the dorm, trying to clean it up a little. Already two weeks into moving to Los Angeles, Paris was starting to succumb to being an average college girl, what with the empty bottles of Diet Coke and foam coffee cups sitting on the table, paper plates and empty take-out boxes all over the kitchen counter and Brianna's laundry basket filled to the brim with dirty clothes. Her bed had been left unmade earlier in the day, and the amount of trash in the garbage can suggested that a trip to the dumpster was in the future. _I'll send Brianna to do that for me, these hands don't like touching trash_, she thought as she threw things into the wastebasket.  
  
It was 28 minutes after Jess said he would be over that Paris had everything cleaned up and the bed made, and had cleared off the computer counter's work area so her and Jess could study. She stared at the television, wondering if going back to communism would be a great idea in the age of corporations failing due to shoddy accounting. That, and Shawn Colvin's brother made a bad Louis Rukeyser replacement on _Wall $treet Week_. She hated that CNBC wouldn't let her get her Louis fix until 9:30 because of their Pacific schedule, and was stuck getting her business news from two idiots who worked for a bad financial magazine, and "just loved" every stock they mentioned on the show. _Only because you got paid under the table to say so_. She was frustrated with the show, and turned off the TV, sliding down the counter in her rolling chair to check her email. She clicked open her Eudora and let the messages filter into the inbox.  
  
"Oh, Rory emailed me," she said, catching the girl's name in-between a plea to buy female herbal Viagra and 10 DVDs for a penny 'with nothing more to buy ever!'. She opened up the message and read it to herself.  
  
_From: gilmore.lorelai@yale.edu  
To: pgellar@uclamail.edu  
Subject: Happy Labor Day Weekend!  
  
Hey Paris,  
  
How have you been, I hope you're not having too much fun in Los Angeles. Then again, I'm sure you've been buried in the library since Prof. Jimenez caught you last Thursday. I've been doing pretty good, and the classes I'm taking at Yale are starting to get tough. I was up until two a couple nights ago for my class in political reporting, pretty exhausting stuff, yet very challenging.  
  
My mom ended up staying in my dorm for three days before my RA caught on and told her to pack her bags. Well that and my roommate Lynise was complaining that she wasn't able to get settled into the dorm that well, Lorelai's back hurt from sleeping on the dorm floor and she needed to share a bed with Lynise. Me and Lynise are much better acquainted now though, and she doesn't seem like she's going to crack on me, we're good roommates.  
  
As for my schoolwork, I'm on a roll. Except for that one moment of inattentiveness when we AIM'ed in class, I've been doing pretty well, never had a grade below 90 yet. I hope you're doing great too Par, and the holidays seem so far away, I miss your snarkiness. E-mail me back so we can set up a phone call or IM chat.  
  
Your friend,  
Rory  
  
P.S. - As for the guy report, New Haven is sadly lacking anyone with brains or good looks in one package so far. I envy you Miss LA, you have surfers, actors and rich doctors to choose from. Hope you can find a great guy in LA, I'll be living vicariously through you this year it seems ;).  
  
_The postscript of Rory's letter stopped Paris from wanting to type out a response right away. Her feelings for Jess were still an unresolved jumble, because she hadn't talked to him in quite a few days before she called tonight. Her confusion about what he wanted from her was high. Did he just want to be a friend to her, or did he want to jump in and become her boyfriend? It hung over her head, along with her declaration in front of Rory that she wasn't going to date during her freshman year.  
  
Compared to how Rory would react to the news of her best friend meeting her former beau however, those things were small potatoes. Paris had several drafts of letters that contained details about Jess in Santa Monica sitting in her outbox, ready to be sent to Rory anytime she felt like it. They remained sitting in the queue though, because when she reread them, the body of the letter came out like Brianna's explanation of 'I'm closer to Jess geographically than you, so you can't have him anymore, nyah-nyah!' did. Paris didn't want to lose her friendship over such a silly childish argument about distance. So for now, she just wrote to Rory with details about her life in LA, at school and the dorms, and nothing else. It would be the same for that reply when Jess left after they studied.  
  
She closed down the mail program just as she heard a knock on the front door. She took a look at her room one more time to make sure that it was clean enough to study with Jess in, then she got up from her chair and walked towards the door.  
  
"I'm coming!" She slid the chain off the slider, and opened up the door, and it didn't take but a moment for the girl to be both surprised and stunned at the same time.  
  
"Hey Paris," Jess said as he laid his eyes upon her, backpack on one shoulder and fast food in his hands.  
  
"Hi Jess." She tried to keep her enthusiasm at seeing him tempered, as if he was just another $20 tutoring student she was helping out in junior year. She felt her hands sweat up as she looked at what he was wearing though. A nice pair of blue jeans, along with a black band shirt from some obscure 80s punk outfit called The Potsies. Over the tee, he had a blue and red-checkered flannel shirt on, which hid his arms from plain view to her. Of course, those jeans were pretty tight.  
  
_Oh boy, it's gonna be hard thinking of him as just a friend_, she nagged to herself, especially when her eyes landed on the food.  
  
"That for you?"  
  
He shrugged. "I figured you might be hungry so I stopped at In-and-Out on the way in. Consider it my payment for services rendered tonight, along with a bottle of RedHot."  
  
"Actually I already ate." She pointed at the cardboard container sitting on the counter she had neglected to throw away, fork still in the tray. He walked into the dorm and set the food and soda tray down, then picked up the microwaved meal container and read it aloud.  
  
"Von's Supreme Choice frozen meat lasagna entree? That's a snack, not a meal, have you learned nothing from your sojourns to Luke's?" Jess shook his head at Paris, as if she had disappointed him when it came to her culinary needs.  
  
"It filled me up fine, but you're right, a burger and fries does sound like a much more filling meal than frozen lasagna." She laughed and started thumbing her way through the bag to find her food. "The fries are well done, right?"  
  
"Golden brown, just the way you love 'em Par. I even double checked to make sure they got it right."  
  
"You are a good man Jess, thank you for buying me dinner." Food and soda in hand, she walked over to the computer area, carrying a couple of Jess' books.  
  
"I figure that I owe you for last Thursday night, and In-and-Out was on the way up to Westwood, so I just stopped there and picked something up for you. Sorry I was a little late."  
  
She shrugged off his unneeded apology. "Don't worry about it Reb, I had to bring my laundry up anyways, I forgot to retrieve it earlier from downstairs. I had to throw something on from the basket because what I was wearing wasn't all that conducive to a relaxing night in the dorm studying with you."  
  
Jess noticed something just then on her backside sticking to her pants, but he was trying his best not to say something because he was sure Paris would be smart and notice that the seat was padded a little more than usual as she sat in her chair. However she sat down and didn't notice the sock stuck to her pants courtesy of static cling. He didn't know what to do; he certainly couldn't touch her and yank the sock off without being slapped immediately by her for such a cavalier move. And he really didn't want to embarrass her, even though he was the only person in the room. He still remembered how down she felt that she wasn't a wonderful cook last week when they talked, he didn't want to ruin her high of accomplishing her laundry without a mistake or some kind of usual Paris-type wackiness ensuing.  
  
"I doubt this night is going to be relaxing, seeing as I'm about to be drilled on all these questions," Jess said back, his focus on her face. It looked like his reverence for Paris was going to win out over his lustful side so far. _Thank goodness I'm in a scholarly mood, no telling what would happen if I was just here for her only_, he thought as he took the erasable pen he brought with him out of his pocket.  
  
"I don't drill Jess, I pummel. You're going to pass this little biology test, and if it takes 30 repetitions of all 24 questions, so be it." Instead of the more relaxed vibe Paris usually gave around him, the girl was looking at him like he was a meek student who had spent a few too many days slacking off from the schoolbooks.  
  
"Well when you put it that way, I guess I should ask you to pummel away." He looked at her, and she nodded at him to start describing what he needed help in when it came to science.  
  
"Great, let's get started." Jess opened up his biology book and spiral notebook, and started showing Paris the questions that he needed to study, along with his disaster of a DNA helix. They got to studying, not letting up for an hour and a half. For then, the relationship between Paris and Jess was not good friends, but tutor and student. There were a few times they were awfully close for comfort and within kissing distance, but they didn't take action because Paris' descriptions of DNA, mitosis and heredity were spun in such a way that they worked for Jess' level of understanding, along with the way she phrased the questions differently than the text. For once, he was engrossed with biology rather than thinking of it as just that class between 1960s Authors and Public Speaking and Speechwriting.  
  
As Jess wrote down the answers to the last three questions, written in the simple yet methodical way Paris strived for him to do instead of cut-and-dry, he thought back to his junior year and how Paris would've been in the situation when Luke made him get a tutor during his grade struggles. Luke had asked Rory to do it seeing as they were close, and that ended up in a disaster where he was sent back to New York and was hated by the citizens for 'hurting' Rory in an accident actually caused by a wayward squirrel with a vendetta against humans.   
  
When Luke said he had gotten Rory to tutor him, Jess had thought to himself why he wouldn't have gotten a girl like Paris to do instead for him. The day that blonde hellfire had walked into the diner and accused his uncle of running a cathouse upstairs because of her assumption that Luke's was actually a front for the West Hartford County branch of the Hell's Angels. He laughed at the time when he got upstairs about how stubborn Paris had been about trying to find something seedy about the town, even if she would never find it. But as he sat in Prospect Park one day recalling the events of the two weeks since he left Stars Hollow, he thought of how different the tutoring would have been if it had been Paris instead of someone at the time he was having strong feelings for.  
  
There was no way around it, she would've been tough on him to the bitter end, and there was just something about her somewhere behind her bitter façade that said that even if she didn't show it, she wanted him to get the highest grade possible, if not for his sake and ego, but to give one of his teachers a 'take that' moment which would give him the class' attention for an afternoon, and that moment would stretch into days with each assignment turned in, so that at the end of the semester, a low A or high B grade would be status quo for Jess. _It's too bad her first impression on Luke sucked, I wouldn't have minded her tutoring me_, he thought as he put the finishing touches on a Venn diagram, to the delight of Paris. She was kind of wondering where her roommate was though, it was about ten o'clock and Brianna was still out. Party headquarters wouldn't be open that long, although Brianna had befriended a couple of girls in the class. _Probably out with girls in Hollywood having a nightcap_, she mused as she finished her assessment of the quiz and gave Jess a thumbs up that it would impress his teacher when he turned it in Tuesday morning.  
  
"I can't believe it, I finished a science assignment without falling asleep or resorting to reading a book to pass the time," he exclaimed, as Paris dug into his backpack to fish out the movie he brought.  
  
Instead of gloating, Paris tried to downplay how much she had helped Jess understand the concepts of what she had helped him out with. "It's nothing really Jess. I just needed to teach you at your own level and give you some individual attention, so I just taught at a pace you'd feel comfortable with. I did it all the time when I tutored at the Boys and Girls Club in the Clay/Arsenal section of Hartford. Some of those kids, school wasn't their first priority, so I had to come up with a better way of tutoring them than just telling them to do step A, then B, and etcetera. That meant I had to drop the haughty tone I usually keep and use simpler words to express subjects, equations and schoolwork."  
  
Jess raised an eyebrow up as his mind flashed a picture of Paris in her Chilton uniform in a inner-city classroom, helping a 10 year-old Latino boy who had a few problems with his history by describing Abraham Lincoln as being 'down with the slaves dude, he wasn't going to take any jive from Jeffy Davis and his wack Confederacy, 'cuz A.B. Lincoln was da bomb!'.  
  
"Uh, why are you looking at me like that, did I say something wrong?" Paris was concerned about the stare Jess was giving her, the kind that someone usually gave someone who was about to be committed to an asylum.  
  
"Please don't tell me that involved being dope and getting on their down low fa-schizzle, because I don't know if I could picture Hartford's smartest heiress talking like she was competing with Eve for baddest female rapper of them all." He laughed at his comment, and Paris had to agree she really had set herself up for that punchline. She smiled and kept back a giggle.  
  
"Word up Jess, I'm just the baddest mama-jama in the HFD," she responded back, trying her best to sound street, but failing rather miserably. This only caused Jess to laugh even harder at this entire concept of Paris being urban and hip. "Hey, I'm trying to be serious here, I can hang with the best of them!"  
  
"Oh good God Paris, please--please stop before I die from laughing at all of this!" He sat down on the couch as Paris walked over to the TV, which had a DVD player combined with it to save the precious shelf space a cramped dorm truly needed, and took the DVD movie out of it's case. She put it in the tray and watched it recede back into the unit, then sat down at the other end of the couch.  
  
As Jess calmed down from his laughing spell, Paris figured by sitting as far from Jess on the futon as possible, there was no way she could be tempted into getting any closer to him than she already had. She was determined to keep their relationship strictly platonic, no matter how much she was sensing the chemistry between her and him.   
  
_I don't have to be attracted to him. Being his friend is just as wonderful as being a girlfriend, I can be just his girl friend, with a space in the middle. I'm not going to fall victim to him again, this shirt I'm wearing doesn't flatter me and he can't talk during the movie, so there's no way he can lure me into a haze like he did last Thursday. _She ended her thought with one more self-declaration.  
  
_I will not move if he asks me to sit closer to him, no matter how much he wants me to._ She picked the TV/DVD remote off the side table and hit the play button.  
  
"Ready for a classic?" Paris asked Jess, smiling at him and trying to stop her gaze from wandering down towards his upper body.  
  
"Not quite Par," he responded. "You could sit closer to me, we have four feet separating us and I'd really like to enjoy the movie with you by my side."  
  
"Err, I can't Jess, um, my field of vision is limited when I sit on the left side of the futon, I can't see the screen right. I see it much better over here."  
  
Paris' hope that Jess would take that excuse was dashed as he scooted to the right rather than asking her to move again. "OK, if you say so, I'll move towards you."  
  
_Quick, come up with something else!_ Her brain came up with something quick that she hoped would appease him. "No, you can't move because...because you're closer to the door than I am in that seat. If some nut comes in here screaming about togas you can teach him a lesson by using the bat over there, you can protect me!" _Geeze, why didn't I just fake a southern accent and call him my big, strong protector, I sounded like Penelope fucking Pitstop right there!  
  
_He shook his head. "It's 10 at night, the toga parties have long since started, and didn't you lock the door when I came in?"  
  
"Well you never know, some of those students can be idiots, I don't trust myself around them. They might even have a key!"  
  
"Sure, they're only after you and only you in room 343, right. You really think someone's out to get you, come on! You yell at a guy and he cowers in fear at your feet, I know you, and there's no way you'll ever have to use that bat over there. Now come on over here and let me sit next to you." His brown eyes had a pleading look to them, and as much as Paris tried to keep her eyes averted as if not to fall under Jess' spell, she couldn't deny it. His eyes were handsome, and she had always lost herself in them, no matter how much she tried to convince herself of the opposite.  
  
She tried convincing herself not to have Jess sit right next to her, but to no avail. Not only were her eyes getting to him, but his scent was overwhelming her senses. A heady mix of Jess' cologne combined with his perspiration to create an aroma that was all Jess' own, with a couple of pheromones mixed in there to whip up in her mind a thought of Jess sitting next to her without his two shirts on, and him ready and waiting for her.  
  
For now though, she had to make do with him close to her seat, and fully clothed. She moved back toward Jess, and settled herself in to watch the movie with him.  
  
"There, I moved close to you, are you happy Reb?" she told him snappishly, hiding the true feelings that were coming out of hibernation after a year at rest.  
  
"Very," he responded. He took of his flannel shirt and threw it behind him, draping it over the back of the futon. Then he settled in for the two hour movie, his dream girl by his side wanting to enjoy the movie just as much as he was going to.   
  
He had a soft side for the black and white movies that were a large part of his childhood; Liz's TV was tuned to AMC, TCM and the tiny independent channel 56 out of Long Island City for almost every day since she decided to hook up the apartment with cable when he was seven. He would never have the memories of getting into crazes like the Ninja Turtles and Battletoads that most boys were into back in 1990, his afterschool time usually consisted of homework followed by some old studio romance from 1933 without much of a plot but plenty of pratfalls. But even if his mother and him weren't on talking terms, her habit was one of the few things that he wanted to pass onto his mate and his children. To him, the art of filmmaking was starting to be lost in the battle to have the next great hit, and the only truly 'modern' movies he ever watched were romantic comedies that reminded him of Desk Set and those Tracy/Hepburn films of the 40s and 50s. To him, Tara Reid was a blonde whore who took advantage of the casting couch system in Hollywood to get her lead roles, and Chris Klein and Freddy Prinze Jr. had about as much chemistry with actresses as a wet sponge. He had a large-scale rant about the new action heroes who took over the genre, including why Vin Diesel didn't deserve $10 million a movie to spout out dialogue that made even soap opera actors cringe to say.  
  
Paris' wish did come true that Jess wouldn't talk during the movie, he was too involved in the pratfalls of Hepburn, Stewart and Grant to really say anything or opine about how he felt a scene should've gone. However, her other hope that what she was wearing would turn him off from trying to make a move didn't work. About an hour and a half in, just as the twists were starting, sleep was starting to come to her slowly, and she started to feel Jess' hand hover close to her, as she relaxed and leaned her head on the armrest, resting on a propped throw pillow. What she didn't expect with her choice of a black shirt was for it to ride up, even though she had checked it in the bathroom hours before to make sure that it tucked into her pants and stayed tucked. The cool air of the air-conditioned room could be felt against the bare skin exposed at her waist, and suddenly she felt self-conscious, namely because the sweatpants she bought were two sizes over hers for comfort's sake. Suddenly she was questioning her choice of underwear that night, and as she glanced down, could clearly read the manufacturer's imprint of Hanes Her Way on the band of her pink cotton panties. Praying Jess wasn't looking at the exposed patch of skin, she pulled her sweatpants back up, and tightened the drawstring of the waistband so they wouldn't fall below her hipbone again.  
  
The shift was Jess' perfect opportunity, and as she got up to pull up her pants, his hand yanked the sock that was clinging to her rear for dear life off of them, trying his darndest not to startle her by laying a finger on her.  
  
The thing he forgot to remember about static cling however, was that the person wearing the item in question could feel the other item being peeled off slowly very clearly. Paris could almost feel Jess' fingers touching her butt, and her eyes popped in shock at first when she felt his thumb rub against her fleece lightly.  
  
_Why that son of a--_ her thought was starting to drift towards that direction, with her mind formulating a stinging way to tell him to go to hell and stay out of her life, until she sees the green sock he's holding in his hand. There's also a sense of disappointment that the only reason Jess had made such a sly move was to prevent her from finding out later that not everything she wore was still in the basket.  
  
_Wait, why am I complaining that he didn't give my ass a squeeze? I don't want that_, her angelic conscience nagged at her. _At least not yet_, the devil side of the coin chimed in.   
  
He had an apologetic look on his face as Paris turned to look at him, and he started to beg for forgiveness on sight. "Paris, that sock had been bugging me since I walked in into the dorm and saw it clinging to you--"  
  
Not wanting to see Jess at his weakest moment, Paris shushed him quickly. "I'm not mad at you, a little perturbed that you didn't point it out to me, but it's nothing. Next time you notice I have a case of static electricity, just let me know Jess."  
  
"I just didn't want to ruin your giddiness about doing your laundry all by yourself and not making a mistake like the cooking disaster you had last week." Jess was still wondering why he was saying all this instead of going on the defensive, but he couldn't deny it. He was in the beginning stages of caring for Paris and whatever she did, and trying to save her pride was the first thing that was cementing those feelings down.  
  
"Jess, I can prevent burning my food, and I have to teach myself not to do that again. In a clothes dryer though, static cling is inevitable. I expected it to happen, and it doesn't bring down my high one bit, I'm not disappointed in myself." She smiled at him as she fell back into the sitting position she had been in before.  
  
"So, you're not mad?"  
  
"If I was mad I'd be asking you to leave the dorm." She sighed. "I'm not the girl from Hartford that lived and breathed Harvard crimson anymore Jess, I've changed. If I was going to attempt to become the #1 student at UCLA, not only would you not be here at all, but I probably would've gotten an apartment off campus and lived alone so that no one could annoy me as I overworked myself beyond belief, and to the point where I was anti-social and would be attractive only to J.D. Salinger, and even then, eww, he's seventyish now. I was #3 at Chilton, but so what? I was in the top percentile of my class, and I still got to be on that stage on graduation day, and I made my father and mother proud despite that. Not only that, two of my best friends were there right next to me, and I was pleased as punch that my academic ass got kicked by them. If it wasn't for those two, I'd still be stuck in my room, watching _The Guiding Light_ and being a deranged hermit who wished I could turn back time and redo that interview."  
  
"When Harvard rejected me, I felt spurned, as if they were like that cute guy in school who kept flirting with you and kept saying just the right things to keep you whipped into being together with them and only them. I couldn't see myself anywhere but Cambridge, and that was a dangerous line of thinking for someone like me. You could say that even though I became unglued when I received the letter, it was a chance to get out of a dead-end relationship."  
  
"So you're saying that Harvard was played by Tim Matheson, and you were Dee Wallace Stone, both stuck doing a horrid NBC TV-movie from the early 90s?"  
  
"You know I never thought of it that way, but yeah, that was me and Harvard!" She laughed at Jess' analogy of her life up to 2-28. "I was the crazy schitzo wife with a whole set of issues, while Harvard cheated on me with other students who wanted my slot in our cabin up north, all the while with them teasing me and saying 'Don't worry, everything's gonna be fine baby, I'll love you forever Paris.' Just thank God I decided not to play out the ending and chase Harvard into the woods with a Colt .45, spouting out horrid dialogue like 'you treated me like crap Harvey, and I took it for so long. But now..." She paused for dramatic effect, "...it's over. See you in Hell you dick!'"  
  
"Then BANG! You blew him away and claimed it was self-defense." Jess completed the scenario the two had come up, and Paris was crying tears of laughter and joy, busting her gut and having a wide smile as laughter overtook her body. She kept trying to stop it and recompose herself to finish out the rest of the movie, but she just couldn't. Everytime she looked at Jess again, the wacky scene they created replayed, and it became even more side-splitting each time. Jess was laughing more calmly, and offered up his hand in an attempt to console her.  
  
She happened to fall of the couch and onto the ground though, and where his hand was supposed to take hers, instead it brushed up against her tummy as her butt hit the floor, causing Paris' mirth to become even more pronounced. He was starting to fall into the heat of the moment.  
  
"Are you ticklish anywhere Paris?" he asked, expecting her to calm down right away and ask what the heck he was thinking asking her a question like that. Paris was too into the moment to refuse to answer his question though.  
  
"I don't know, I dare you to find out, but those fingers felt pretty good on my stomach!!" The sentence uttered was separated by several bouts of laughter.  
  
_What is up with her_, he thought as he looked down at the happy girl below him. _It's as if the California effect they talk about hit her and freed this whole other side of her that is not only easy to talk to, but makes you fall hard for them_. Words that would form a compliment were on the tip of his tongue, as he started noticing that Paris had took his advice of making a trip to the tanning bed. The way her skin glimmered in the lamplight of the room was getting to him, and his hypothesis that she'd look great with a bronze shade of skin was proven correct beyond his wildest dreams.  
  
His thoughts were interrupted by Paris' hand grabbing his, and she pulled him down over her. "I honestly don't know if I'm ticklish or not, no one has ever dared find out unless they wanted me to give them a punch in the gut. My mother wasn't exactly Rosy Sunshine, and my father feared touching me in front of relatives without some worry of accusations of molestation getting into the papers, he had a weird paranoia about touching me too much." She was starting calming down, and she leaned her head back against the bottom of the futon.  
  
Jess was shocked to say the least. No one had ever tickled Paris before? It wasn't a surprise knowing her from the way Rory described her and that one time they met, but still it hurt to hear her say those words. At least Liz, despite her demons managed to give Jess some rapt attention every once in awhile when he was a kid, including tickling and playing fun games around the apartment with him. He couldn't imagine how a young Paris lived in her mansion without the attention from her parents she so rightfully deserved.  
  
Without thinking, he put his arm around her, and rested his hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry that your father had that fear and your mother didn't warm to the idea. Are you sure you aren't ticklish?"  
  
"Well my nanny Francisca did tickle me when I was younger, but once I got on the Harvard cattle train at seven she was expected to become more of an overseer and less of a nanny, my mother wouldn't tolerate me 'being abnormal', as she would call being a normal kid. Up until first grade, I was a regular ol' girl, I was into the GloWorms and Barbies and all that, though my Barbie campaigned for human rights in Tibet and equal pay for equal work instead of mooning over Ken's anatomically incorrect charms, and having coffee klatches with Skipper and Christie."  
  
He laughed. "As would be expected of your version of Barbie."  
  
"They're still in the attic at the Manor, collecting dust with all the other toys I lost when I decided that I was going to Harvard come hell or high water. I'm pretty sure that I can sell it for a small fortune someday at auction when I pass, or else I can pass them onto my daughter when I try to raise her." The slight smile she had slowly inched off her face. "That is if I even have a child, I have one of three choices. I can be a subservient trophy wife to some blond hair-blue eyed guy, do my best Diane Keaton in _Baby Boom_ imitation and try to raise a child alone as I work my way up in the world of newsgathering, or I just won't get pregnant, that way I don't have to deal with a baby in the first place."  
  
"What do you mean you don't want children?" Jess asked.  
  
"Look at me Mariano, do I look like mother of the year material?" She pointed at herself. "I'll be the dream mother that the baby industry is looking for. Within moments of seeing that strip turn pink, I'll have 17 wallet-sucking parenting and pediatrics magazine subscriptions and be looking into the 92nd St. Y to give my child a head start. Heck, the first words out of the little bugger's month will probably be Pocket and PC seeing as I've DayTimered his or her life until they're not only captain of the basketball team and have a 4.25 GPA, but have the perfect wife or husband lined up to marry them the day they turn 18!"  
  
He set his hand on her back, trying to calm down Paris' hyperventilating. "OK Par, step number one in proper child care; however your mother raised you, please make sure to forget your entire upbringing in that moment between damning God and the creator of Demerol as you deliver your firstborn. Your kid will be a lot saner and less resentful when they grow up."  
  
"Got it," she mumbled, starting to calm down.  
  
"Lesson number two, someday you'll have a child, and no matter what the magazines and books have told you, their advice is a bunch of bull by the time you get that first squirt in the eye during a diaper change. Liz followed the books down to the letter when she had me, but by about the third week they were shelved 'cause I was a wild and rambunctious little boy, and there was nothing in the books about a baby crying on and on even after getting fed, changed and their favorite blanket next to them."  
  
He brought Paris close, and held her close, her face in the crook of his neck. "But the third and most important thing to remember is to never think you'll be a crappy mother, because you're going to make a great one someday. I can already see you turning into a pile of mush when you first lay eyes on your baby, and all this stuff about you being the worst mother ever will fade away just like that. Your kid will be going to the best schools, have the best friends, and God willing, the best father possible in addition to who I think will be an awesome and nurturing mother. Using one of your analogies, all you have to do is take that passion you have for academics and writing for a newspaper, and put all that into raising a child. It's not that hard, you just have to take it easier than you have anything else." He clasped his free hand with Paris' in her lap, and Paris found herself not wanting to leave that spot and having that hand taken out of her grasp.  
  
Her thumb ran against the inside of the fist Jess had formed, and as each line in his hand became apparent, she remembered the first time she had that moment with Jamie. At the time, her hand was scarred with calluses and imprints from her writing utensils, and had ink along the top ridge of her palm from testing each one of her pens to make sure they worked. She remembered Jamie's comments about how she felt good, but nothing else besides that before he closed in for a kiss to wish her goodnight. Paris said not a word in response, as she felt nothing but hand cream smoothed skin in her grasp. _That's the moment I knew Jamie and I weren't meant to be_, she thought as she recalled when her thumb edged along his lifeline. Her hands had healed since then due to the lack of summer work, but five hour sessions at her books and keyboards since she arrived in LA were bringing back the scholar's calluses she was so familiar with, and wouldn't want to ever lose.  
  
Her lashes fluttered as she felt Jess' grasp in hers. It felt strong, yet at the same time, it felt safe. A daydream flashed in her mind of her and Jess in a chuppa in front of her rabbi, exchanging wedding vows in front of her family and friends. The image wasn't well formed and she couldn't place any other faces besides those of Jess and the rabbi, but Jess was clear in 20/20 vision, and the look he was giving her was one of pure love and adoration. In her dream, she looked down towards herself, and saw she was wearing a baby pink strapless wedding gown that had a train going six feet behind her in back. Jess was wearing a black suit with a white shirt and black bow tie. She was in full bliss as her hand felt his and recited her vows, and it was such an amazing image to Paris.   
  
She'd never visualized herself walking down the aisle with Jamie in their seven months together, because he was showing all the interest in her. Paris never felt that she reciprocated what feelings she had for Jamie enough, and before he confronted her about the outburst at the Bicentennial, she had remembered sneaking a peek at her future engagement ring, formerly the property of Jamie's mother. No matter what she did in order to imagine it on her left ring finger, Paris never found the result to her liking. And she suspected that if he ever proposed, like the day he asked her out it wouldn't even occur to her until five minutes after the fact.  
  
However, with Jess, things were looking a lot different within her eyes. She didn't have the thoughts of him proposing or even their first date yet, only the image of the end result of the two marrying. But to Paris, it was a picture of foreshadowing, something that might come true. And frankly, it scared her to death. _Just friends, just friends, just friends..._she thought to herself as the image disappeared.   
  
Her therapist had once described Paris as having four invisible zones surrounding her during a session. The first was called the 'outsider circle', where strangers and those she didn't know well were. Zone two was referred to as a 'median circle', where Rory had been before she befriended Paris, and others like Lorelai, Mr. Medina and Brad resided. They knew her, but weren't close friends. Paris' third zone was referred to as 'the insider's circle', and it was where Rory, Madeline and Louise, and Francisca the nanny, along with most of her family resided. They knew Paris well, along with most of the feelings she would share with them.  
  
She remembered Dr. Longwell's description of the fourth and final zone clearly, and recalled it from memory. "The fourth zone you have is called the 'soul circle', and only a select few people will ever make their way into it. At birth, your mother and father were the only two people who were in it, along with any siblings and grandparents you had. But as you grow up, close, close friends eventually find their way in, along with people whom you're grateful to for saving your life or helping you get back on your feet after disaster strikes. But the most important of those persons are the ones who manage to fall in love with you. They're going to be in the extreme center of the soul circle, and if you play your cards right, you'll try to keep them as close to the nucleus for as long as you live, and perhaps the afterlife."  
  
Paris had thought that her therapist, who had minored in Eastern philosophy as she worked for her Ph.D., was a little kooky, and that was certainly one of those times. She just nodded her head, said "I believe in it," and moved onto the next of her many unique neuroses that had to be dealt with at the time.  
  
But sitting there on the floor with Jess, Longwell was making total sense. Jess was quickly winding his way around each zone, as if he was a needle on a 78-RPM record. A year ago he was an outsider to her world, and after they met at the Gilmore home he made his way into her median circle. With him in LA and no other friend to turn to except for Brianna, he was becoming one of her insiders.  
  
_How long is it going to be before he's in my soul circle? _The thoughts and feelings, Jess' hand in hers with the other on her shoulder, they were starting to overwhelm her, and her mind started spinning. She had to get away from Jess before she did something she might regret later. Thankfully, she noticed the clock screensaver on her IBook was displaying the time as 11:40.  
  
"Jess, you have to leave, in twenty minutes my RA's going to come around, and if she sees you in here, I'm in trouble." She abruptly pulled her hand back from Jess.  
  
The loss of contact stung at him, but he knew it was inevitable. It was going to take weeks, perhaps even months for Paris' guard to be let down, and from her description of Jamie she talked about him last week, there was still some lingering effects and trust issues floating around her.  
  
He got up, trying to ignore the pain in his lower body from sitting in such a weird position for an extended period of time. "Well I'd love to sleep here in your room, but I don't think Brianna would appreciate me stealing her bed."  
  
"I think she'd go postal, Bree's very particular, almost obsessive-compulsive about anyone even sitting on her bed." Paris got up and pressed the eject button on the remote, letting the ended DVD come out of the player/TV unit. "You should try that DVD by mail thing Jess, it's cheaper in the long run. How Blockbuster can get away with charging $4 for a movie you're only keeping one night is highway robbery. That's one of the things I miss about Hartford, I rented my movies from a little mom and pop outfit on Cottage Grove. I knew the owner, and they always made sure to keep a copy of a movie I really wanted, especially if it was a Friday night and I didn't have any time to get to the store until after the 6 o'clock rush."  
  
"I know how you feel. Stars Hollow Video may have had the Rory Curtain shielding back those movies Kirk thought were inappropriate, but they charged a fair price." Jess laughed at the memory of his ex-girlfriend's school photo in a frame, staring at him from outside the shop's display window, saluting the girl's off-the-cuff idea to shield the films inappropriate for children behind velvet red upholstery.  
  
Paris' face lit up as she recalled the memory of interviewing Taylor for her story about the lurid side of small towns. "They not only charge well, but those two guys helped give me an Oppenheimer award for best community interest piece, I'm forever thankful to them for helping me get that plaque."  
  
"Don't you mean the _Franklin_ received the award?"  
  
"Hey, don't ruin my high Mr. Reality Check," Paris said as she faked a pout. "It maybe hanging in the _Franklin_ office, but my name is etched below on the plaque as editor. Future Chiltonians are going to know it was me who wrote that story and they'll look at me with reverence as the best editor in the paper's history."  
  
"And Rory too, right? Without her you may have never got that award in the first place."  
  
"Yes, Rory's the one who started the story, and she's credited as the co-writer on the plaque. I made damned sure the Oppenheimer committee gave her equal credit for it."  
  
Jess started cleaning up the food and schoolpapers off the coffee table with Paris, and thought it would be the perfect time to compliment her on her tan. "By the way, you decided to take my advice and lay under the tanning bed for a couple hours Smartie?"  
  
"Well you were right Jess, thanks for the suggestion, it was a very wonderful experience. I was expecting it to be kind of disgusting because other women and men were in the bed before me, but they assured me and I saw that it was very clean and I'd be tanned evenly. It gave me a couple hours to have some girl talk with Brianna and to revel in my own thoughts. You could say then that as I tanned, I also meditated at the same time, it cleared my mind laying there."  
  
"Really, are you going again?"  
  
"I already have an appointment for two weeks from Saturday, the time alone there with nothing but my thoughts was worth it, along with the results." She looked up at him as she threw the leftover food wrappers and boxes into the In-and-Out bag, and noticed his hovering stare, as if he was trying to pierce his stare through her clothing. "Jess, what did you want to ask me?"  
  
He looked startled and tried to hide his ogling. "Nothing, I was just looking at you."  
  
"Yes, in the way a 300 pound trucker looks at a 72 ounce steak he gets for free if he consumes it all in front of 160 other patrons. Spill it Jess."  
  
He was adamant that the questioning looks were completely innocent. "There's nothing I have to ask you, really, can you just drop it." She only sighed in response, totally on to him.  
  
"You'll kill me if I ask," Jess said, relenting.  
  
"All the knives are in the kitchenette, there's no murder on my mind."  
  
"So I could ask you the question and I'd still have a chance to get out of here?"  
  
"Don't know, I have a 40-yard dash time of 8.59 seconds, and seeing as this room is only 3½ yards long with about six feet of open carpet space between here and the kitchenette, I estimate I can make it to the knife drawer in about...oh, just about 2/3 of a second."  
  
"You have a 40-yard dash time?"  
  
"I was forced to take the presidential fitness test when I was sixteen, large emphasis on being 'forced'."  
  
"Of course, you're not an athletic kind of girl," he nodded back at her. "But I guess I should confess that I've been fixating on something about your tan all night."  
  
"And what would that be?" Paris groaned out, mildly annoyed at him.  
  
"Whether you have any tan lines or you decided to go au naturel in the booth." It was a natural curiosity that he needed to ask Paris that question, and he was expecting either the trademark eyeroll followed by the short and sweet answer that would shut him up, or an outright refusal to answer accompanied by a speech that would make a feminist shout "Say it sister!" so loud it shook the rafters in the ceiling.  
  
Paris didn't know how to respond to it though. She had been expecting the question somewhat because Jess was a male, but when he actually inquired, the prepared answer in her mind disappeared into the ether like memories of a popcorn movie after the end credits rolled. Her face was a mix between paleness for the impact of the question, and a blush at the mere thought of Jess thinking of her nude. It was disconcerting to her that only a mere week into their second chance at getting to know each other, she was already in his thoughts in a sexual sense. It didn't make any sense to her though. **She** was the one that was supposed to have impure thoughts about Jess, not him about her. No matter what Brianna or Rory might tell her about how much of a catch she would be to any guy that comes her way, Paris was in denial about herself. She was a _Sarah, Plain and Tall_ in a _Bridget Jones' Diary_ world, where wanting the two kids, picket fence and 40 acres (less the mule and replaced with a Hummer H2 because of the modern age) wasn't enough. She had to be a 100 pound waif who lived only to fret over guys and her shortcomings in life. _God, why can't I be Renee in 'Chicago' instead of in 'Bridget Jones', at least Roxie was a confident woman who knew what she wanted_, she thought to herself, as Jess looked on in astonishment at the time she was spending answering him.  
  
"Well Smartie, yes or no, do you have tanlines? I bet if I asked Brianna--"  
  
On that bit of strategic surprise, Paris blanched and had to answer the question, God forbid her friend had to reveal the truth rather than her. "No I don't have a tanline, the girl at the salon suggested I go without clothing in order to acclimate myself to the process. I mean I had no choice, I'm not comfortable wearing a bikini, I'm more the full-swimsuit type, and how are you going to get a tan from wearing that?"  
  
"I--" Jess tried to respond to her answer, but was cut off by one of her classic rants as she plopped herself onto her bed.   
  
"It's not like anyone saw me in the buff in the first place, I had on a robe that I took off inside the bed and threw off to the side, my image to everyone in California is still of being clothed. And then why would you want get a $50 tan and only have 90% of your body tanned, it doesn't make financial sense. There's no way I'm going to let the covered areas of my body not match the uncovered parts, if I get a tan, damn right I'm making sure that my whole body is bronzed! I'm spending big bucks on doing something for myself, I can't get it half-assed and just say 'Oh Paris, don't do that, it's not like anyone's going to see it anyways.' It's my body and my choice, and if I want to get a full-body tan wearing nothing but a smile then damn straight I'm doing it!"  
  
Jess shook his head and smirked as he heard Paris vent, that was one of the most endearing things about her to him. That she could take a small query and somehow expand it to a riff about how she took full advantage of the entire bed by not covering up because she didn't want to waste her money. It was getting kind of hard to keep thoughts of Paris naked out of his head though, and he chastised himself for asking the question in the first place. O_h man, if she ever describes getting a massage I might need to be put out of my misery_, he thought. Before thoughts of her laying at his side as he poured massage oil into his palm could form, he needed to get out of Paris' dorm.  
  
"Um, well still, despite all that you look absolutely glowing," he said, minimizing his thoughts from 'You're such a California hottie'.  
  
Paris got up from her bed, a glowing smile forming and the rant quickly forgotten. "I'm glad you like it Mariano, you're the one who suggested the tan after all." Jess took his bag, and with the girl behind him, walked towards the door.  
  
"We need to do this again, I had a lot more fun with you tonight than I would've sitting in my room alone doing my homework. It's too bad we didn't get to see much of the movie though."  
  
"There's always another night and I'm planning on having the cable company install a digital box in here so me and Bree can get the classic movie and premium channels." She looked nervous and looked down at her feet as she wanted to ask a question herself to him. "I'm just curious though, you haven't asked me for an ashtray or wanted to go outside for some air since we met last week. Did you quit smoking?"  
  
He felt glad that Paris had finally asked him about his lack of nicotine use. "Jimmy made me give it up back in June as a condition for using the Beetle, he said that a Marlboro was never to smoke up the windows of his baby and that if he caught me smoking I'd have to work a full 12-hour day at the hot dog stand. Also cigarettes in this state are like $5.25 a pack, and I'd basically be working an hour just to pay for a pack. I got the patch, and I haven't had a craving since July, it feels much better to be smoke-free."  
  
"You look it too," she said to him sincerely. "Not that you were bad-looking at all when we saw each other the first time...you know what I mean, right?"  
  
"Yes, I do, somehow," Jess laughed, strapping the backpack around his shoulder. "I should go before you end up being kicked out 'cause I stayed too long."  
  
"Yeah, I guess." Paris felt a twinge of disappointment that Jess had to leave. If it was up to her he could've stayed 'till two. There was something developing between them, and she would have to wait a little longer for the picture of them and their enigmatic relationship to continue to reveal.  
  
He noticed how down she was, and moved to reassure her, taking her hand back into his. "Paris, you can call me anytime you need to talk, I don't want us to drift apart so quickly. You're a familiar face, and I'm thankful to have you in my life again. Just because I'm leaving now doesn't mean I'm leaving you forever, and I promise you if you'd like to come down to Venice and see me, I won't turn you down. You're a good friend, and I'm very happy you gave up your Friday night to help me with my homework."  
  
"It's nothing, really, friend helping out a friend," she murmured as her eyes wandered down to stare at Jess' grip of her hand. It felt so safe and strong, and in a sudden moment, she didn't want him to leave her. Paris wished that he could stay, especially when her gaze found it's way up to his face. Her lips were a six mere inches from Jess', and there was a large temptation on her part to close that distance, just as much as the boy's wish to take her into his arms and feel his fingers through her generous blonde hair as his tongue probed her fully pouted lips. They were stuck on staring at each other for what seemed an eternity, Paris' doeish eyes slitted and partially hidden beneath her lashes, with Jess' brown eyes looking into them like windows into her world. There was a paused moment where both of them were ready to act on their wishes so soon beforehand.  
  
They were both startled when Paris' phone rang. And she knew just who was on the line.  
  
"Shit, you better go Jess, my RA Piper's freakishly obsessed with laying down the law with outsiders in the dorm after midnight. That's probably her giving out the five minute notice before she sics the hounds on you." She kept her voice at an even authoritarian treble as she opened up the door for Jess, trying to keep her composure.  
  
"Oh well, wouldn't want to offend the almighty Piper," he joked with a smirk.  
  
"You wouldn't want to, she has a voice that would drive a siren nuts. I'll talk to you whenever, but I definitely want to hear about how you did on the test on Tuesday, good luck Jess."  
  
"Thanks, I'll need it." He walked out into the hall, expecting Paris to shut the door on him "See you later Par."  
  
"Oh, by the way Mariano?"  
  
He turned back around to face her as she called out his last name. "Yeah?"  
  
"My stomach, the soles of my feet, along my sides, the back of my neck, and a little place behind each of my armpits, that's where I'm ticklish. I never answered your question." She smiled back at him one last time, wanting a last glance of him before he left.  
  
"Darn, I loved the mystery, you shouldn't have told me that." He directed a come-hither stare towards her, and lowered down his voice."I think those aren't the only places you're ticklish, you just haven't had someone discover them yet. Maybe someday they will." He trailed out, and found her look of confusion and bemusement to his liking. "Goodbye Paris." He started walking down the hall, oblivious to Paris' stare moving from right to left as he walked down the hall.  
  
"B-b-bye Jess," she intended to say to Jess, but he was out of earshot by the time she uttered the words. She blushed as she shut the door, and her t-shirt suddenly felt like a 100 pounds weighing down on her shoulders as the powerful arousal caused by Jess' words shot through her, coursing down from her ears and throughout her body. She picked up the ringing telephone, and shaken, uttered a soft greeting to the other person on the line.  
  
"Is your boy gone yet?" the telltale voice of Piper was grating even through a wire.  
  
"He's gone, just left," Paris commented.  
  
"So how was he, did you two do it?" Piper asked a little too excited.  
  
"MYOB, no, and bye." Paris didn't allow the call to go further, and hung up the phone. Jess' arousing words returned shortly thereafter to her conscience. She didn't know whether to just go to bed and nap until Brianna came home, or to watch some late night television or surf the web to augment some arguments for a debate she had on Tuesday for her class on conflict reporting.  
  
_Then again, I haven't had a shower since this morning, I might not have time tomorrow..._ She grinned as if she were the cat eating the canary as that inappropriate thought came to her, and she walked into the kitchenette towards the bathroom. _I do feel a little dirty, and kind of hot and sweaty. Nothing like a little water pouring down on me to cool me off, and some..._ The last of her thoughts were unknown as she shut the door of the bathroom and started disrobing, intending to take full advantage of being alone in her dorm for the first time after midnight in two weeks, and since she met Jess again. She made sure the bathroom door was locked before she stepped into the warm and steamy mist behind the glass shower enclosure, and started imagining her very own Rebel Boy behind her, doing her back.  


* * *

"Paris, are you still up?" Brianna's voice came through the bathroom door, and just in time as Paris slipped back on her shirt and smoothed out her hair as she opened up the door.  
  
"Hey, how was party headquarters?" Paris said, smiling brightly upon seeing her roommate back again.  
  
She walked out to find Brianna in looking rather frumpy in her formal event dress, her makeup running and a few strands of Silly String hanging from her hair.  
  
Paris looked at her friend and immediately had pity for her, while at the same time holding back some snickering. "I'm thinking one of two things, prank by some of the juniors or seniors, or the California Democratic Party really knows how to throw a bash."  
  
"I wish it was one of those two, but Theta Kappa Sigma tried to recruit me into joining them." She brushed the Silly String out of her hair, and sat down at a stool, fuming. "We did make the stop at the party headquarters, yes, and it was interesting. Unfortunately I had the joy of carpooling with three brainless bitches from TKS on the way back into Westwood, and they brought me over to the house for me to check it out, against my will may I add. Those girls would not take no for an answer, and I spent three hours being belittled by them and their housemates and feeling so mentally superior to that sad collective of young women. You know what they do for fun in that house? They watch MTV all day, I checked, they programmed all the channels out of the TV except for that one. They're trying to be the new house for _Sorority Life_, but I think the only show they might get on is _World's Most Psychotic Nuthouses_!"  
  
"Oh, you poor, poor girl, you must be scarred for life." Paris offered up her hand. "But you're safe now, they can't get you when Piper the psycho RA is here to protect us all."  
  
"I even told them that I was happy living in the dorms and they looked at me as if I was on crystal meth, apparently living with one or three other people and not a whole morass of people is such a foreign concept to them."  
  
"Don't they understand some of us don't want to share a house and want to actually be alone with their thoughts once? I have the money, I'm paying for some of the stuff in the dorm and being a good girl, so you have no reason to move."  
  
"Yeah, I told them I wanted to be with someone I shared the same IQ with, and that's how I got besiged by a deluge of Silly String. If this stuff destroys my hair they're going to be sorry they ever messed with Brianna Moira Daugherty." She bared her teeth and growled.  
  
"We'll file a report with campus security tomorrow, but for now just relax, you're home and far away from them, they can't recruit you now." Finally, Paris couldn't hold back, and she started on a laughter spell. "I think you rather look fetching in Silly String, it's a good look for you."  
  
"Glad you enjoy laughing at my pain Paris, really I am." Brianna rolled her eyes and went to her dresser, getting out some pajamas. "I'm sure you didn't have as much a fun-filled night as I did, but I'd love to hear about it anyway, might take the pain away from hearing 25 girls laughing like hyenas at the image of Justin Timberlake making a really lame joke to Suchin Pak about Britney."  
  
"You're right, my night was less painful than that," she smiled wistfully as she recalled how she spent her night, leaving out Jess on purpose for a bit. "I cleaned the room, got all my homework done, did my laundry then sat down to my usual Friday night TV shows, it was a very non-productive night."  
  
"Jess came over, didn't he?" Brianna looked her straight in the eye, on to Paris' strange behavior.  
  
"He did, needed help with his biology homework," she stated confidently.  
  
"No wonder you needed to do chores after he left, the boy's insatiable for you girl."  
  
"Well I cleaned because--" She noticed Brianna's little crooked grin, and groaned. "Not that kind of biology homework Bree!" She huffed and sighed. "Dirty!"  
  
"Hey, I didn't say anything, you set the ball on the tee and I swung it onto the fairway, it's not my fault."  
  
"I did walk into that one, didn't I?" Paris shook her head, and found it ironic she was helping him with biology when biology was affecting her hormones so much.  
  
"So when am I going to meet your mystery man Paris, It's been eight days and I don't have an image of him yet."  
  
"One of these days, he invited me down to his house in Venice whenever I feel like seeing him. Definitely turned this mundane night fun, we watched _The Philadelphia Story_, or at least tried to as we chatted about stuff, our lives when we were little, homework, old movie trivia, it was a night to remember."  
  
"Would you call it a date?"  
  
"Huh?" Paris was confused.  
  
Brianna sat down next to Paris on her bed. "A date, do you think that tonight was your first date?"  
  
"Of course not, we were studying, that was the original purpose of the whole thing."  
  
"Yes, but who called?"  
  
"I did," she admitted.  
  
"OK, and if you hadn't called, would Jess have even asked for your help in school?"  
  
"Probably not, he was stubborn as hell back in Connecticut. He finagled his way out of a study session with Rory with his good looks and charm."  
  
Brianna was going to get her date classification soon enough, as she continued drawing out the information out of Paris. "And what happened tonight, did he try at any time to get out of it and slack off?"  
  
"We went over his work for an hour, and then he finished up his assignment in front of me, all 24 questions answered to the point and ready to shock Mrs. Tumwater into an academic coma from how bright he can be if he sets his mind to it."  
  
Brianna caught a glimpse of the wastebasket and the new additions since she left in the afternoon. "What else did he do?"  
  
"He bought dinner at In-and-Out and rented the movie for me--" The moment of realization had finally come for Paris. "Wait, it can't be, this doesn't count at all." Her face lit up in surprise as Brianna summarized the conclusion of the details of the night.  
  
"It counts, dinner and a movie, it's a bona fide official date Paris."  
  
"But it can't be, we stayed in, we had fast food, and me and Jess watched a movie on the couch. You actually have to go out to have a date." Paris was trying her best to minimize the impact this night had on her. "It can't count because of one important thing."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"We didn't kiss at the end of the night. There, sorry, no date, just a regular Friday night, proved you wrong Brianna." She waved her hand in a dismissing fashion, but the brunette was having nothing of it.  
  
"It's a date, you two must've been so close the temptation to kiss had to be there. And how come when I came home you were just coming out of the shower? No girl takes a shower after midnight unless she's feeling all flush and hot, and she needs to blow off some steam from spending five hours with a guy she's lusting for."  
  
"Now you're just grasping straws, I might not have time for a shower tomorrow, so I decided to take it tonight."  
  
"Paris, look at me." She smiled at her roommate of two weeks and proceeded to explain the concept of timing. "I walked into the dorm at 12:20 and immediately upon entering I heard you utter in a very lustful tone over the spray of the shower," she started a dead-on imitation of Paris' monotonic voice with a spin of sexual spice, "'Oh Jess, my back is so tender right about there, run the loofa over it--no don't kiss my neck...mmmmmm, yeah Reb, you know how much I like that.' Moments after hearing that, I decided to run down to the 7-Eleven and pick up some candy so you could finish your 'shower'." She air quoted the last word for emphasis.  
  
Paris felt mortified that she had been caught in the act, at least aurally. "Um, about that Bree, I--"  
  
"Vocalize your fantasies, yes, I know that, very well. I forgot to tell you on Tuesday morning you dreamed of Jess reading a scene from _Legendary Lovers_, and that I could hear your fantasy quite clearly because of your sleep talking. Maybe I should ban you from reading the books, they're only adding fuel to your fire."  
  
"NO, you can't take away my books!" Paris screamed. "Look, fine, I'll admit it, I made the call, and he took that as a sign of a date under the cover of a study session, and we were approximately 5¾" away from starting to kiss at the end of the night when that fucking Piper had to ruin it with her curfew call! I was thinking totally normally after that, then he made some wisecrack that turned me from mild-manned Paris Gellar and into a sex maniac. Is that what you wanted to hear, that I've had illicit thoughts about him all night?! I admit it, he's turning me from a frigid Frieda into a horny Helga, damn it I hate my hormones! Why did I develop early and suddenly develop a sex drive later?"  
  
"Because the California air changed you somehow, along with that nice little tan of yours. He commented on that, didn't he?"  
  
Paris finally had to relent from Brianna's queries when she brought up that topic. With a nice little knowing smile, she said "No comment, and there will never be one."  
  
"Yup, I knew he'd love it." Brianna got up and took her clothes, then made her way into the bathroom. "Just keep at your normal pace, soon enough you'll have that boy in the palm of your hand." She smirked and walked in, shutting the door behind her to change.  
  
"Brianna, once again, dirty!"  
  
"Oh you know you want to!" she yelled out.  
  
"Look, I'm not going to take action on whatever I feel with Jess until I'm sure that we can work and we're both compatible. I'm a much different type of personality than his other girlfriends in that I'm more demanding of him to better himself, and he'll need to understand that it takes a lot to get me out of my shell. If he can accept that, then and only then will I take this relationship beyond the fantasy and friendship phase."  
  
"It's understandable," Brianna said as she ran a brush through her hair to get the last of the Silly String out. "It's not going to be easy to try to start a relationship with him. You have your problems and he has his, but the way you gush about him, you two must have amazing chemistry when you're together. The way you went on about him while you tanned with me last week and how unbelievably literate and handsome he is, you've never felt this way about a boy, have you?"  
  
"I have too!" Paris countered. "Tristan and Jamie, remember?"  
  
"Pish posh my friend, Tristan was a high school crush, and Jamie was a player." Brianna responded, laying out the facts quite clearly. "You managed to keep most of your wits about you as you pursued Tristan and Jamie tried to get you. Lest we both forget that Jamie, despite having every piece of contact information you could possibly muster out including your social security number, did not contact you after the Washington date, and waited three months to show his face around you again. And from the description of his so-called triumphant comeback to Chilton, he had to grovel at your feet to even get that second chance to woo you." Brianna walked out of the bathroom, wearing an A's practice jersey with green stirrup pants.  
  
"I still don't see your point, I mean I liked Tristan and Jamie equally, even though only one went beyond the first date. I knew DuGrey was going to be hung up on Rory so I had a snowball's chance with him, but Jamie was nice. He cared for me, and liked me for who I was."  
  
"Mm-hmm, and how many illicit fantasies did you have with Jamie from November up until March when you dumped him?"  
  
Paris cringed as she tried to recall her Jamie dreams, stuck in the warehouse of her memories, buried just below the time she was dragged by Louise to see former pop princess Tiffany at the Charter Meadows Mall in Bristol when she was five. She counted in her head all the times she had imagined being taken by him or seeing him undressed when she was her dream self.  
  
She could count the times on both of her hands, and still not use all her fingers.  
  
"I had six dreams of a sexual nature about him, all the rest, about 45, were very rote dream discussions about Faust, the economy and Greenspan, politics and such. However when you don't count the times I was woken up before my dream self committed the act, I only did him three times, and one of the times he had a...dysfunction."  
  
"A dysfunction?" Brianna blanched.  
  
"Yes, he was as flaccid as a wet noodle, Viagra wouldn't have even worked to fix it. However to note it was after I had sex with him in real life, so in a way it was my conscience's means of expressing how unsatisfied I was with him in bed."  
  
Brianna laughed as she put on her big yellow ducky slippers. "OK, I think I get that Jamie was just a boyfriend and nothing more, and there were no sexual sparks lingering with him inside you. Now tell me, counting tonight and Tuesday morning, how many times you have dreamed about Jess in a compromising position."  
  
_Oh lord, do I include the dreams between March and July of last year too?_ she thought. She decided not to include them for the sake of Brianna's sanity.  
  
"Including the aforementioned incidents, I've had impure thoughts about Jess about five times so far, including when he was reading _On the Road_ to me in the bookstore."  
  
"Six times in eight months with Jamie, compared to five times in eight days with your black-haired dream guy. And probably a few other times after your Kerouac debate last year, admit it. I think we have a winner!" Brianna declared.  
  
"Two or three times," she admitted sheepishly.  
  
"You've done the deed more with Jess in your dreams than with the guy you thought you loved in such a short time. It's a true sign Paris, and anytime you're around this boy you lose your mind and just want him. Add to that he challenges you both emotionally and academically, and you think he's a pretty cute guy, there's nothing wrong with him besides the obvious 'he's not rich' problem, but that isn't even a factor with your wealth. I know you're not ready to say you love him quite yet, but admit it to me right now, that he's the only man on your mind as of this moment."  
  
Paris looked as if she was trying to concentrate on other guys she came upon throughout the week, including Prof. Jimenez, Ronnie and Doug, along with various men without a name to them that she passed on campus. Some of them had the Tristan-like look to them, but they also had horrid attitudes and lack of respect like the two boys who ruined the former's life in Hartford, Duncan and Bowman. Some of them were like Jamie, but that was status quo and they behaved like expected by women. They, however, were boring to Paris, she didn't need another Jamie in her life.  
  
There were no other boys on Paris' mind. Only one, and his name was Jess. She perked up, and smiled as she admitted it to Brianna.  
  
"You're right, he's the only one Brianna. Jess is currently the one." She almost felt giddy as she let the impact of her own words envelope her.  
  
"You're making progress, the next step is going after him--" Brianna cut herself off as something she forgot to do came to mind. "Shoot, I forgot to get the $10 Doug and Ronnie owe us for the doughnut runs this week, I forgot to ask, and you've been too busy avoiding Doug since his slobbery handshake." She got up from off the bed and walked towards the door.  
  
"Is Doug here on a Friday evening, you'd think Mr. Average Joe would be out partying on Sunset," Paris said as she switched the subject.  
  
"Nope, big test in his sports medicine class Tuesday morning, so he had to study in the library about ACL surgery and whatnot."  
  
"God, I hope that's not his major. If he behaves like he does with me with Mia Hamm he better sure have a cup on, soccer players wear spikes, and one of them in the groin wouldn't be pretty."  
  
"Nope, he's undeclared, doesn't quite know what he wants to major in. I caught him in the hallway on my way back in from being hijacked by TKS. Surprisingly he had no words about my hair full of Silly String and didn't say I look like shit, maybe you scared him straight Paris."  
  
"Who knows with Doug, maybe he likes you." Paris said non-chalantly, catching Brianna off guard.  
  
"Just what I need, some guy falling for me and me not returning his feelings." She rolled her eyes and walked towards the door. "He doesn't know me that well so how can he want me. I'm in Los Angeles to learn, not fall in love."  
  
"Um, Bree?"  
  
"Look, I'm not going to fall for Doug because he's not the guy for me, I didn't graduate first in my class because I was rolling around in bed with every guy I met in Antioch, some of my friends used that strategy and paid for it dearly when May came around."  
  
"Brianna?"  
  
"I don't care what you may think Paris, there are no sparks between me and Doug and I don't want you to set me up with him..." She continued to rant on for a minute, with Paris trying to interrupt her and keep her sane. Finally, Paris had to raise her voice when Brianna started talking about her night with Leonard as if it ruined her life.  
  
"BREE!!"  
  
The brunette stopped as her eyes bulged out and her heart ker-thumped when Paris screamed. "What Paris?" she mumbled out vaguely.  
  
Paris drew her focus down towards Brianna's feet. "If you're going to talk to one of our sworn enemies, you might not want to do it in oversized slippers resembling a cuted-up waterfowl, and may I add that I've never seen a yellow duck in my life after it matured." The blonde smiled smugly, and Brianna doled out a dirty look as she changed from her duckie slippers into beige Isotoners.  
  
"Sorry, I went into rant mode, I have to learn how to control that." She pensively looked at the door, laughed, and walked towards it. "Well Paris, wish me luck in getting that $10, I'll try to get the money for next week too if I can."  
  
"If Doug says the words g-string and lapdance give him a nice slug courtesy of me, good luck." Paris joked wryly. She picked up her radio news quiz book and started reading it silently to herself as she climbed beneath her covers.  
  
"Thanks." Brianna walked out into the hall and towards 319, leaving Paris alone with her thoughts and her dreams. She knew one thing that would come out of this night besides her admission for wanting Jess.  
  
_I have to keep my fantasies to myself, and I need to get shock therapy for my sleep talking. _She smiled secretly to herself and went back to reading, trying to figure out which headline went with which from the news of the past three years.  


* * *

"Doug? It's Brianna from 343, I'm the roommate of the girl who threatened to castrate you." She knocked on the door as softly as she could, trying to keep the students who were sleeping from waking up in other rooms. It was her fourth knock, and she was becoming frustrated as Doug didn't answer the door.  
  
"Merriwether, I know you're in there, I just talked to you a half-hour ago." She knocked again, and still Doug wasn't coming. She deduced the lights in his room were still on, the bottom of the door was bright. "Listen, if you and Ronnie think you're gonna get out of paying for the doughnuts, I can send in Paris to tell you otherwise, and I found out she has some pumps with a nice pointy toe and a tall heel." She huffed in frustration, and knocked again. Not a response from the other side.  
  
"I'm going to knock one more time, and if this door isn't open, I'm coming in," Brianna challenged. She twisted the doorknob to test, and it was unlocked. Doug had to be in his dorm and fully awake. The short girl was thankful she wouldn't have to ram the door in since she had saw his door before, and there were no other locks except for a padlock that was rarely used.  
  
With no answer from the dorm, Brianna opened up the door slowly and walked in, creeping around and trying to make as little noise as she possibly could. She noticed Doug's room was much more haphazardly organized than 343, and was messy like an average guy's room with the usual assortment of 'it hot girl' posters with an abundance of cleavage on the wall. He had a TV and a computer in the same places, though the 19" set he had looked as if it was balancing perilously on the bookshelf, held onto the counter by a slab of plywood. His furniture was a haphazard mix of a big recliner and a tan thrift store couch that would feel just at home in the 70s. His bed was unmade, and his counter was full of dirty dishes and pots and pans. Brianna took in her surroundings, and couldn't understand why he wasn't in the room. There was no balcony or extra rooms, besides a connecting door with 317 which wasn't used judging from the location of the couch in front of it.  
  
_Damn it, I know he's in here, the common room's TV is off and I already checked there for good measure._ She called out for him one more time.  
  
"I'm going to count to three Doug, and if you don't show yourself I'm going to be seriously pissed." She was looking at the window as she started to count, her ears not noticing the opening bathroom door. "One." A pause to survey the room, including a check under the bed. "Two." Another survey of the area around the kitchenette area.  
  
"Thr--"  
  
"Hi Brianna, what brings you to these parts?"  
  
As she started on three, her blue eyes somehow missed Doug walking out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist, and his light brown hair mussied up and dripping water onto the floor below. His chest was wet and shimmering light from the fluorescent fixture above the food preparation section of the cupboard bank in the back of the kitchenette, and as her concentration went back towards him, Brianna became speechless, as her feistiness lost its fervor.  
  
"-Reeeeee" Her larynx stood stuck to that one sound as she took in the boy standing thankfully about eight feet away from her in the room. _Fuck, say something, Doug is not ice cream, he's just a guy!_ _Don't get brain freeze!_ She didn't understand the feelings sweeping up inside of her, and was wondering why Doug wasn't yet making wisecracks about her being in his room.  
  
"Hello Brianna, you OK?" he asked as he made his way around the counter and into the living room. "You're turning all white and ghastly on me, like you saw a ghost." She started trying to regain her composure and at the same time back her way up in the room, blinding herself to the body she was being forced to look at. That, and the knot in the towel, being held closely together in Doug's hand.  
  
She looked back up finally, running a hand through her long dark hair. "Yeah...fine Doug. Just wondering, you have the doughnut money for this and next week?"  
  
"Oh yeah, forgot about that, I've been sparse around Paris lately. You want me to dig it up?" He didn't seem to notice how awkward Brianna was feeling around him.  
  
Instead of looking into his eyes however, Brianna was too busy staring at his chest, which was tanned and perfect in her opinion. Somehow the memories of her night with Leonard were coming back, and she was starting to compared his above-the-waist image with Doug's. "Yes, please do, er, sorry to have walked in the room without letting you know. I didn't know you were in the shower." Her words were shaky and nervous, and her heart was beating at double the normal rate.  
  
"Did you knock beforehand?" he asked to Brianna as he tried to remember where the pants he was wearing had been when he took them off.  
  
"About six times, then I checked to see if the door was open." She kept involuntarily staring at his features, and chiding herself for such behavior. _Goddamnit Brianna, he's just a guy, one that probably watches The Best Damn Sports Show Period for the eye candy rather than the statistical joy that is ESPNews. You have no obligation to him, just get the money and leave.  
  
_"Sorry about that, I usually leave out a sock signal on the door for when I'm showering or need alone time 'cause I can't hear the knock over the spray, but it's after midnight so I figured no one would notice." Doug found his pants and the ground, and bent down to pick them up, causing Brianna to look away. But not for long, as her hormones got to her again and she found herself in a full-on ogle as he dug through his front pockets.  
  
_Look away, look away, look away...oh shit!_ She was hoping that Doug was an unhealthy slob who wore oversized jeans and shirts to fit with his figure, but it was too impossible to think that. His torso was perfectly formed, and the rear view was just mouth-watering to her. She felt flush and feverish as he bent down, and there was a tempting view of his rear. In short notice, she was rooting for the towel and gravity to cooperate in giving her a sneak peek of Doug's ass, and cringing that her helpless love side was starting to stray from her.   
  
"It's alright Doug, I didn't know you were going to shower after you talked to me in the hall," she said shakily, as Doug gave her mercy by turning around. He handed her a $20 bill and smiled back, but instead of the smug schoolboy grin he usually used around Paris and Brianna, it was a genuine smile at her.  
  
"There you are, that should cover us for the next two weeks." He then took an additional $5 bill out of his pocket. "And there you are Brianna, that's for reminding me. I can be a little forgetful at times, and I got scared of walking down to 343 with the money because your roommate is scary when she's pissed."  
  
"Would you say...she's cute?" Brianna asked, then cursed asking it right away. _Whoa, hold on! Why the hell are you asking him that, I'm not playing the field, I just can't!  
  
_He was thoughtful for a moment, and responded. "Paris is cute yeah, but not dating material. She's rich and kind of resentful, and while she'd make for a great date and has a nice bod, I and she would never have a connection." His brain was going on overdrive as he took in Brianna in her tight togs and huge shirt, leaving a wide berth for his imagination to wonder what was beneath the A's jersey. _Don't say something stupid Doug, just look at her and nod at answers, don't let her overwhelming beauty, bright blue eyes, pouting lips--gggaaah...shimmering dark and curly hair down to inches below her bra line, nice short and voluptuous body--get to you. Fucking A, stop it Daugherty, stop being such a hot all-around chick!_ He was starting to feel just as lost as Brianna in the conversation.  
  
"Anyone else you have in mind right now?" She relaxed a little against the post of the door. "Perhaps Ronnie?" she alleged with a mischievous grin.  
  
Doug laughed nervously at Brianna. "Sorry to dash your hopes of homoeroticism, but I've never had a sexual thought about a guy."  
  
"Damn," she pouted. "Well anyone of the female persuasion then?"  
  
"Not really, no. I just broke up with my girlfriend in Coronado a few weeks ago, so I'm just trying to settle into single life in UCLA. She was going out with one of my buddies back home behind my back, so I've been feeling uninterested in chicks lately. Although you and Paris seem to be a great respite from the girls who surround my dorm."  
  
"Is that why the 317 connector is blocked?"  
  
"Hell yes, before I blocked it these two ditzy roommates kept coming in and trying to flirt with me. They kept asking me out, but I'm afraid they can't even tell time. I just want a girl who's intelligent, with a wry and dark sense of humor, looks beautiful and can handle what I dish out at them."  
  
"Even the teasing?"  
  
He didn't know how to answer, so he just nodded.  
  
"I see," Brianna said as the last of her corrupted thoughts of Doug coursed through her and she started motioning towards the door. "Well, I got what I came for," she started nervously, "So I suppose I should go."  
  
"Yeah, you should," he countered. "It was great talking to you earlier, I hope you stop by again." He kept hold of the towel as he guided Brianna out of the dorm.  
  
"I think I will, your dorm is on the way to the lobby," she said with a shaky laugh. "Just make sure, um, next time that you're clothed."  
  
"I'll try, but you should get back, you look all flush and sweaty, must've been from the shower steam." Brianna walked out into the hall, and looked at towel-clad Doug one last time before she started on her way.  
  
"Yeah, shower steam," she said back automatically. "Thanks for the money, the extra will help me with coffee."  
  
"You're welcome Bree, if you don't mind me calling you that. I'll see you tomorrow." He started shutting the door.  
  
"Me too, and go ahead and you have the permission. See ya." The door shut in front of her, and Brianna hypothesized that perhaps a shower of her own was in the picture. _Stop it, it's just lust girl, pure lust. Guy in towel, cliché #1 in college life! Just because he looks so hot and wanting in it doesn't mean you want him!_ The pleasure lobe of her brain, stunted from the encounter with Leonard though was starting to suddenly heal, and her increased bloodflow was affecting more areas than she wanted, she could hear it in her ears, and feel it all over.  
  
"I don't want him, he's Doug, prankmaster and immature boy extraordinaire," she told herself around the 325 section of the floor. "He's an idiot who teases Paris and me too, and besides I'm a prude, he doesn't want me. Look at me, I'm not a siren. I'm just an only daughter from a conservative Irish family in the Bay Area, nothing much to look at." She tried to stay stubborn and keep her new-found feelings for Doug bottled up.  
  
"If I want Doug, forget it. I'll just bury myself in my work and make excuses to stay away from his dorm, that's all. I don't want him." She continued to try to clear her thoughts as she walked in the room, and immediately ran for her bed after handing Paris the doughnut $20 without a word.  
  
"Goodnight Bree, sleep well," Paris said softly as she dislodged her nose ring and turned off her bedside lamp.  
  
"Night," Brianna mumbled back as she bundled her blankets as close as she possibly could against her body. Her thoughts were plagued by Doug from that moment on, and until she fell asleep at 1:30, the scene of him leaving the bathroom played over and over in the Tivo of her mind. Her last thought before she went to bed wasn't much, except an answer to her thought of eight days before.  
  
_You wanted a conflict of the heart Bree, you got it girl. Along with your sexuality and some added physical stimuli as a nice bonus._ She fell asleep shortly after that, and thankfully Doug decided to stay on her dreamworld's sidelines.  
  
Doug lay on his bed meanwhile, trying to deduce whether Brianna's looks were of a "I want you" or a "I want to get out of here" nature. He also was recalling how lucky he was that his towel didn't fall down while she was in the room. He could've never forgiven himself if it had dropped and Brianna noticed that his B positive blood decided to create a positive effect in his groin, he had held it just tight enough so that it was unnoticable. He managed to fall asleep about a half-hour later, and then right off the bat, Brianna invaded his mirages, usually in either a conversational or sexual nature. Suffice to say that Doug had a very confusing night's sleep.  
  
As for Paris and Jess, both were in their own worlds, with Paris having a dream where she met Jess on a Mulholland Drive promontory, and things getting hot the moment the dream started. There were bits of literature talk and intellect, but most of the dream focused on Paris and Jess making out in her car. Despite this however, she managed a restful sleep and managed to keep the sleep talking to a very quiet minimum. And in Venice, Jess had a dream of more tutoring sessions with Paris, and a proud look on her face as he walked down the aisle to receive his diploma in January. Nothing sexual or physical, just her being the first to hug him for graduating high school as he walked back to his seat after he received his scroll.  
  
Even in his dreams, Jess wanted to make Paris proud of him for working so hard. From that point forward, Jess was not only working for himself, but for hopefully, the future love of his life. And hopefully the reality would end up being just as fruitful as the fantasy.  


* * *

**_To be continued...  
  
_Next Chapter: **Labor Day has passed, and it's time for Paris to put her nose to the grindstone by applying to work for _The Daily Bruin_, UCLA's newspaper. She's challenged however when the faculty chief and editor give her a first assignment in an area she has no expertise in at all. Will she be able to return the volley with a hard spike and impress her superiors enough to receive a promotion, or will her writing fall short of the net? She'll have to depend on Brianna to help her in the first test of their young friendship, and learn to trust those that she covers. Top it all of with her flirtations with Jess, balancing her love for journalism with that of school, and Brianna and Doug's awkwardness around each other, Paris is starting to see that perhaps Los Angeles isn't all fun and games.  



	5. Volleyballs and Superbeds

**Title: Bruins and Rebels | Chapter Five | Volleyballs and Superbeds  
Author: **Nate  
**Pairing:** Paris/Jess, Brianna/Doug and couplings with the ancillary characters introduced in later chapters.  
**Spoilers:** The big one would be the Jess/Milo spin-off series, which takes the Jess character to Venice, CA with his father. Otherwise it's unlikely I'm spoiling any of the upcoming plots. The earth-shattering and horrible news from _The Big One_ is included and a major factor in the story.  
**Rating:** PG-13 (swearing, sexual innuendo and thoughts).  
**Disclaimer:** Amy Sherman-Palladino, Hofflund-Pollone and Warner Bros. Television along with the newer companies involved with the spin-off own the Paris and Jess characters. Other trademarks are owned by their respective companies. Sadly my offer to give Liza 26 birthday kisses for $2,600 was rejected by the WB as too low.  
**Archiving: **Usual suspects; FF.net and LWL. Make sure to ask if you want to archive it yourself.  
**Summary:** Paris gets her first gig for UCLA's _Daily Bruin_ newspaper, but it's in a field she has no expertise in, so Brianna has to help her out. Meanwhile Doug is starting to slowly woo Brianna into his arms and Jess is trying to make Paris a larger part of his life.  
**Author's** **Notes: **This update is coming out on June 5th, 2003, which is Liza Weil's 26th birthday, so this update had to come out on this day or else, heh. Happy birthday to her, and I'll try to keep the obsessive AN comments about her to minimum, except to say that thank goodness the elder Weils had a fun month in September of '76, or else I might be talking about another actress playing Paris instead (shudders). The usual thanks to my betas (Ash, Chris and Jamie), along with all those who left feedback, thanks a lot. Hopefully this will sate your thirst until I update once I get out of my temporary writer's block. Enjoy :)!  


* * *

Paris was in good spirits as she walked into Kerckhoff Hall the Wednesday after Labor Day, carrying a leather portfolio full of all her best articles for the _Franklin_, and the letters to the editor she frequently contributed to the _Hartford Courant _and the _New Haven Register_. Also along for the walk were her many journalistic achievement awards, along with the trusty red pencil she used for two years to edit New England's oldest student newspaper. She deduced that the chief of the _Daily Bruin_ would ask her to prove she was one of the best high school editors in America, and there was no way she'd leave any doubt in Diane Broughton's mind that to have such a hard worker on her staff would pay off when it came to beating their crosstown rivals at the _Daily Trojan_ at their own game and when it came to winning the highest honors college journalism could offer.  
  
She knew that in the next four years, there was going to be a lot of hard work to do in order to take the editor's chair, and that she was starting right back on the bottom as a freshman. College students had different needs when it came to what they wanted to read in a paper, and stories like the ones she did back in Hartford wouldn't fly at a college newspaper. She remembered her first day on the _Franklin_ staff as one of the worst she ever had. She had come in expecting to be giving the big stories right away, but by the time the day ended, Paris found herself as 'chore girl'. It was a unforgiving task, where she had to pick up snacks at the vending machine for the senior staff and run copy back and forth between the offset press on one end of the building and the _Franklin _offices on the other. By the time that night ended, Paris vowed that she had no future in journalism, but somehow found the strength to soldier on. She kept at it, and despite an offer of promotion by the faculty adviser later in the year, she refused it, saying that she would rather earn it with experience than just the position being handed to her. Paris continued to toil for the next three years, moving up the ranks from production staff and graphics, then as a student reporter until her hard work was rewarded with her becoming editor in junior year. Paris wasn't expecting any less from UCLA's newspaper, and expected to have to crawl her way up to the top for four years.  
  
There was also the added challenge that she didn't know the lay of the land as well as a native Californian would. Paris would need to prove that her smarts and attention to detail, and the fact that she learned at an accelerated rate in order to impress her superiors at the newspaper she was about to apply to work for.  
  
She stood in front of the door leading into room 118, and tried to determine for herself how many people were already in the room. It was audition day, and her fellow journalists were also waiting to walk into the _Bruin_ offices. The scene seemed more fitting for a Hollywood casting call than it did for trying to get work on a student newspaper, less the whiny kids vying to be the next spokeskid for Oscar Mayer by singing their insipid jingle.  
  
"I'm sorry miss, you'll have to sit down until we call your name," a woman said as she approached Paris. Paris turned to make eye contact with the faculty member, smiling.  
  
"Sorry ma'am, am I too early for staffing day?"  
  
"Not at all, you're just on time actually. The big staffing part is over, so the Nikkis and the Carmens have already been sent away."  
  
"Should I be familiar with those girls?" Paris asked, not understanding the woman's reference.  
  
"I take it you're not a watcher of _American Idol_," the woman said, laughing.  
  
"Oh, I got it. Sorry, I only watch television for some soap operas and political shows, the whole earning fame by doing something like karaoke or eating inedible things in a national forum really doesn't appeal to me." Paris straightened and started walking towards a bench off to the side of the door.  
  
"Wait," the woman said, her eyes widening. "Can I have your name?"  
  
Paris turned back around. "I'm Paris Gellar from Hartford, Connecticut, I ran the _Chilton Academy Franklin_ for two years."  
  
The woman smiled as the familiarity of the name hit her. "Ahhh, I've been expecting you Miss Gellar, you're one of my biggest gets of the year. My gosh, I didn't think you'd take to UCLA after you read my recommendation since you seemed destined for Harvard."  
  
"Mrs. Broughton?" she asked, walking back towards the woman and extending her hand out to shake the faculty chief's hand.  
  
"Nice to finally meet you Paris, I'm surprised you decided to accept the invitation to come out west."  
  
"Well considering the sunny skies and history of crime, greed and political scandal, not to mention the environmental issues affecting southern California, how could I not come out here, this is one of America's journalistic hotbeds." Paris shook Mrs. Broughton's hand, and smiled at the woman who changed her life and got her out to Los Angeles in the first place.  
  
"I suppose I could bring you up to the front of the line and get you all settled in, why don't you come with me and we'll chat more in my office?"  
  
_Wow, that was fast, I didn't even need to open the portfolio_. "You mean that's it, I'm in?" Paris was shocked she wouldn't need to 'audition' her work.  
  
"Mm-hmm, I'm not turning down an Oppenheimer award-winning writer who managed to become editor of her school paper one year earlier than the status quo. As Lou Grant would say, you've got spunk, and in droves."  
  
Paris smiled, Mrs. Broughton was confident that she would do well working on the _Bruin_'s staff. "Miss Peters thought I was a little pushy when I ran the paper, but how else are you going to turn out a quality product? I didn't want to see the circulation of the _Franklin_dwindle and have a student-run guerilla newspaper cannibalize my audience, so I had to balance out the viewpoints and keep the controversy level low, that's why under my leadership the paper did so well. I just hope my successor keeps my ideals in mind when she takes over in a couple of days."  
  
"I think we're going to get along well Miss Gellar, you were like me when I was back in high school." Mrs. Broughton recalled her glory days of high school journalism from the early 80s. "Back when I was in Grand Rapids and running the Catholic Central _Crusader_, when I came in that broadsheet was kissing the ass of athletics way too much and glorifying the incompetent administration so much it made me throw up, not to mention ten of the twenty-four pages were devoted to advertising. Once I took charge, that little paper ousted the faculty and put their precious little football program on probation because my reporters found out about recruiting violations and many, many drinking parties that the coach held for the players. By the time I graduated I'd made a lot of enemies in western Michigan, but lived up to the name on the masthead. To this day the administration and AD still consult the editor of the paper before they even make one move, in a way taking the temperature of the student body."  
  
"Journalism at it's best," Paris agreed. She and Mrs. Broughton walked into the _Daily Bruin _newsroom together, debating about how similar the editorial policies of Hartford's _Courant_ and the _Los Angeles Times_ were now that the Tribune Corporation in Chicago owned both of the dailies, and the conflicts of interests that were springing up because they also owned television stations in each market.  


* * *

"So, what assignment am I going to get first?" Paris was beaming after ending her conversation/interview with Mrs. Broughton, which ended up lasting about an hour. "Can I cover the USAC meetings, do a piece on where each dollar of your tuition goes to? I can even write a human interest piece on what a shift in the information technology department is like, including trying to somehow satisfy the RIAA that sharing an inane song by Cosign 75 or one of those stupid 'I hate my dad' punk bands helps more than it hurts the record industry? I'll do anything for you Diane, you just name the venue and direction my piece should go."  
  
_She's got spunk alright, maybe a little too much of it for a freshman_, Mrs. Broughton thought. As much as she wanted to crown Paris her top reporter moments after she walked in, she knew if Paris was to get right into the trenches, the girl could be eaten up for applying the concepts which worked so well in Hartford to a story that might alienate the fraternities. At best the _Bruin _had a very tentative on-the-line relationship with the Greek houses, and after Paris rallied on Brianna's behalf about the girl's forced pledging, Diane knew that if Paris got her hands on a pencil and wrote a negative story about the Greeks, that peace would be shattered and Murphy Hall was going to have her head in a vise. She had also seen other freshmen reporters who had Paris' same eagerness crash and burn from trying to take on so much responsibility so fast.  
  
_I can't do that to Gellar, she'll be an important member of the staff when next year rolls around, but for now, I'll start her with something easy. She's going to hate me for awhile, but you never make friends when you're campaigning for the truth.  
  
_Mrs. Broughton make eye contact with Paris, and proceeded to tell her what her first assignment was going to be. "I have to start you small for now since you're an Eastern Seaboard transplant, so I want you to cover the women's volleyball game on Friday night against Cal State-Northridge. You'll have to drive to Northridge yourself, but I'm sending you with a photographer so she can take pictures of the Lady Bruins and she can help you out somewhat."  
  
Paris, moments before smiling, now was feeling her grin fade and being replaced with a frown, along with a stare of confusion. "Excuse me Diane, you want me to cover what?'"  
  
"The UCLA-Cal State-Northridge volleyball game, it's a non-conference game and the Matadors are usually beaten pretty convincingly, it's not a tough assignment."  
  
Paris was in a total state of shock, and upon hearing her assignment, turned white, then found words coming to her slowly. "But, I can't cover volleyball, it's not my field, no sport is. Why don't you put me on for something else?" She shook her head, not believing this assignment was true.  
  
"Paris, it's not that I don't have any confidence in your abilities, but right now my priority is using my experienced reporters to produce editions of the _Bruin_ in the next month that will help the '06ers and '07ers get used to our high caliber of coverage, and to attract the eyeballs our advertisers need to sell their establishments, it's more about getting students to read our paper right now than to cover issues that we can save for the important editions later in the year. Also, you seem to have nothing when it comes to reporting on sports at all, I went through the online _Franklin_ a few days ago, and found nothing under your name about athletics."  
  
"That's because I suck at sports and I don't like them!" Paris yelled. "What's wrong with making a decision not to cover sports in high school?"  
  
Mrs. Broughton pushed back her seat and stood up in front of her desk. "Nothing, but it doesn't make for a well-rounded reporter." She opened her arms and made a rainbow gesture. "You have to broaden your horizons Paris, and you're not going to do that stuck on the op-ed or student life pages. Take Mitch Albom for instance. He started out as a sportswriter, then moved on to a column. After he wrote _Tuesdays with Morrie_, Mitch realized he had a gift, a way with words. People would stop him on the street and ask his opinions about subjects other than sports, they asked him about politics and the news of the day. Pretty soon he had a national radio show out of Detroit and his sports column was nationally syndicated. Yet he still is an important voice in the land when it comes to non-sports items. There are other examples of sportswriters becoming general journalists, and reporters deciding that the regular news was stifling, so they moved to the press box and covered the gridiron."  
  
"I don't care about Mitch Albom, he got a lucky break! I hate sports and sports hate me! This was the way divvying sides was in my gym class." She started imitating an average jock guy. "Uhh, two more players to go? I'll take the Jenny the asthmatic with the social anxiety disorder, a set of issues larger than a stack of _National Geographics_, and the 200/200 corrective vision goggles. Betsy?" She rose her voice up, whining. "No, I have to take Paris?! What a nerd, she sucks! Her idea of defense is ducking and holding her calculus book up begging the fielder not to throw the ball so hard or the center to pass her the ball, she's short and couldn't block a Hollywood Square. Can't we just take the injured boy with the crutches sitting out in the bleachers and put him in the middle so he doesn't have to participate? We can claim that Gellar would lose brain cells if she participated in this game."  
  
Diane turned deadly serious, staring down Paris. "Listen Miss Gellar, I am the faculty chief of this paper, and if I want to have you cover a volleyball game, you'll cover a volleyball game, and you'll do it just as damned well as a student election. I don't care about your concerns with gym and athletics, and that your jaded view of the games is just to get the ball/puck/stone/whatever from point A to point B in a pointless exercise to impress others. This is the big leagues honey, and to make it to the 25-man roster you have to prove yourself in spring training, and this time you can't go crawling back to AAA Hartford wanting your precious _Franklin _back."  
  
"But--" Paris tried to argue her position for not wanting a sports story, but found herself interrupted.  
  
"But nothing Paris! I'm not Miss Peters, and I'm not going to stand aside letting your view become that of the student body's. I'm here for one reason and one reason only, to make sure that our brand of journalism is the best in the nation and that our paper is a kaleidoscope of student life at UCLA. You got that acceptance letter in January because your writing is second to none, but I had 49 other boys and girls I said the same thing to, and 22 of them took up my challenge along with you. Now if you feel like you don't want to cover the meet, the door is right over there, you can use it at anytime. If you walk out of it though, don't expect me to take you back except for having you write pithy little press releases about a new parking lot and having to scrounge up entries for the community calendar with no hope of promotion. If you take that road, the only rag you'll work for is the _Santa Clarita Shopper/Used Car Gazette_."  
  
The 40 year-old's hazel eyes stared directly in the blonde's pupils, as if she was shooting lasers into the center of each eyeball. She issued Paris an ultimatum.  
  
"You prove yourself Friday night, or you never prove yourself to me at all." Mrs. Broughton's words struck Paris right in her gut.  
  
Paris cringed and felt acid rise up from her stomach. Her face tightened up, and she felt like at any moment her dormant tear ducts would be aroused. She felt her spirit being crushed in that instant, and that Mrs. Broughton was being unnecessarily cruel to her by having her write a story about a topic she loathed.  
  
But her conscious set her straight, and brought back her façade of determination. _You better take it on the chin. Who knows, maybe you'll like it. Volleyball is a religion out here, and she's doing you a favor by giving you what might be a small story in our world, but in California is as big as football in some cities. Just grin and bear it, and hope for the best next time.  
  
_She sat up straight in her seat, and tried to keep the grudge out of her response. "Fine Mrs. Broughton, you'll have a story about the Bruins/Matadors match on your desk Sunday evening at 7:30 before press time."  
  
"And?" Diane looked at her again directly.  
  
Paris hesitated, and then answered the unasked question. "And I'll put just as much strong effort into the story as one of my editorials in the past."  
  
"It should be easy for you, and if you need any help, feel free to ask anyone on the sports staff." Diane's stoic front fell, and she was back to the cheerful talkative self Paris had first met in the hallway.  
  
Paris smiled as she realized that perhaps she wouldn't need any help from the staff, and the person who could teach her volleyball basics was only one bed away. "Actually, I should be fine..." The editor and cub reporter walked out of the office, and they started on a meet-and-greet of the _Bruin _staff, where Paris met her photojournalist for Friday night, Mai Lyn Vang.  


* * *

**_Three hours later...  
  
_**"Brianna, I need you to tell me everything you know about volleyball, and I need you to do it in forty-eight hours!" Paris burst into the dorm room guns blazing, and on the prowl. Brianna was studying her literature homework and was in a particularly tough passage of Chaucer when her concentration was interrupted by Paris' demand. She turned around with her mind in a daze.  
  
"What the hell--" Paris venting about Mrs. Broughton quickly shut up Brianna.  
  
"I can't believe it, I was the editor of the oldest student newspaper in New England, and what am I reduced to when I apply for the _Bruin_? I get fucking scorekeeper duty for the UCLA/Cal State-Northridge game on Friday night, she might as well have assigned me to a story where I go in-depth to figure out what animal the mystery meat in the cafeteria comes from! Goddamnit I hate her smug little attitude, all I have to write is if UCLA won/lost the game, the score, and the highlights, but she expects me to write it as if the Pope visited the student union!" She slumped down onto her bed and lay on it, looking at the ceiling and frustrated with her journalistic side.  
  
Brianna's assignment on the _Canterbury Tales _was quickly forgotten as she walked over to the side of her roommate's bed. "You're not athletic though, why would she assign you a story in a field in which you're not talented at all?"  
  
"Mrs. Broughton wanted me to 'broaden my horizons', so she's making me write about volleyball. At least I don't have to write a feature about the cheerleading team bringing it on at nationals." She rolled her eyes. "It's not that I hate volleyball, those girls seem pretty intelligent. It's just that when I was in gym, even with my 165 IQ I got confused about all the concepts and rotating that was probably second nature to you. Volleyball was out of my element along with gym altogether, and when I served I only got it as far as the net, where the ball would bounce off and then slide down to the floor with a thud."  
  
"Aww, sorry Par, I wish I could help you out with not having to write that story," Brianna said back to her sincerely. "But since you're stuck with it, I suppose I could come out of retirement to help you learn all the basics and strategies of the game." She immediately noticed Paris start to frown, possibly because she might have to do some kind of physical activity besides some nice and safe jogging.  
  
"You're not going to make me play the game, are you?" she asked, worried.  
  
Brianna smiled back, and laughed. "I'm afraid there's no way you'll become Holly McPeak in two days, so no you'll never be forced to touch a volleyball. I'll just explain things to you, have you read books, watch tapes, that kind of thing."  
  
"Sounds like a riot Daugherty," Paris joked. "Instead of studying journalism, I get to study the wonderful world of beach volleyball."  
  
"Oh please, that league these days is as believable as wrestling, we're going to do the real thing, six-by-six on an indoor court. As a matter of fact, do you have a video store card?"  
  
"Uh, a Hollywood Video card from back in Hartford, but they said it would work out here..."  
  
"Perfect!" Brianna smiled. "You get yourself out to the video store and rent _World Team Volleyball _for the Playstation 2, then when you get back we'll pop the game in and I can explain to you sets, serving, rally scoring and everything that should make you a sideline expert, and I can have fun kicking your butt at the game."  
  
"That's great and all Bree, but there's one thing you're forgetting, we don't own a video game system." As much as Brianna's idea was good, it would be pretty useless to rent a game and have nothing to play it on.  
  
"No, but Doug has a PS2, I'm sure he'd lend it to us."  
  
Paris wrinkled her nose, but accepted Brianna's offer nonetheless. "Fine, but stop by Von's and pick up some Lysol, you don't know what that boy's touched and gotten on that controller."  
  
_He's not that gross Paris,_ Brianna thought secretly to herself. She hoped the feud between Paris and Doug would start to fizzle soon, considering her mixed and burgeoning feelings for the boy. "Will do, now get up and rent that video game, up, up, up!"   
  
"I can't believe I'm about to learn things from something I once described as 'a deplorable form of entertainment only meant to arouse the anger of the anti-social'." Paris got up from her bed and started brushing her hair to freshen up from the hectic day she spent at the _Bruin_.  
  
"Things change, even the army uses them to train soldiers these days, plus it increases your hand-eye coordination and peripheral vision." Brianna smiled at her proof, which made Paris question if she actually knew everything in the world.  
  
"Sometimes your too smart for even me Brianna." She grabbed her purse off the nightstand and walked towards the door. "See you in a while then."  
  
"Bye." Brianna waved her friend out, and moved towards the TV to figure out which jacks went with which when hooking up a video game system. After careful examination, she left the room and headed towards 319 in order to proffer Doug's PS2.  
  
A feeling of nervousness washed over her, as she recalled last Friday's events once again. Brianna had been avoiding Doug since that night in an attempt to keep the sexual feelings she was having for him contained. Labor Day she decided to catch the A's in Anaheim, using the early afternoon Angels game as an excuse to leave the dorm so she wouldn't bump into Doug, still busy studying for his sports medicine quiz. And the last two days she left for classes at seven instead of her usual 7:30, under the guise of catching a few extra minutes of study time in the classroom before the lecture started at 8:30. In truth, she didn't want to bump into Doug when he came to drop off her and Paris' doughnuts for the morning, and she hadn't said anything to her roommate about the awkward meeting of Doug in his bath towel. Out of sight, out of mind was becoming her motto about Doug, and she hoped she could ask permission for the system, get it and flee away from 319 as soon as she could.  
  
Her dreams however, were another story. True, Doug managed to avoid her REM state on both Friday and Saturday, but Sunday was another story. The dream actually started as a nightmare, with her attempted initiation into TKS the focus. It was far worse than the real thing, with the sisters forcing her to drink an extreme amount of alcohol, and to sit in an empty room with a TV playing Britney Spears videos and interviews ad nauseum. The combination of shrilly pop and darkness was driving Brianna insane, and she struggled to open the door to the rest of the house. At the midpoint, she was huddled up fetally in a corner of a room, crying and wishing for Paris to come in and rescue her from the brutality of the sorority.  
  
Then, without rhyme or reason, the door opened, and Doug walked in, and upon seeing Brianna in her state felt a pang of concern for his floormate. She was looking at him with her blue eyes wide, pleading with him to help her out of the horrid situation she was forced into. He scooped her up into his arms, and then tried opening the door. Once again though, the door was stuck, and the boy had to resort to brute strength to force it door open. For good measure he kicked the TV off it's stand after pulling the plug, causing a few sparks to fly out of the plastic casing of the tube as it hit the hard concrete below.  
  
The door came off the hinges as Doug's shoulder hit the weak middle point of the honeycomb door, and him and Brianna burst out into the living room of the TKS house. They were met by a gaggle of sorority sisters trying to keep her in the fold against her will, and chanting something about Christina Aguilera being their queen and goddess and that they needed to sacrifice Brianna in her honor. Doug bravely fought off the depraved girls, and ran with his the girl out of the house and towards the Saxons, desperate for her to snap out of the haze fueled by Jack Daniels, Coke, and Franzia.  
  
The dream fast-forwarded to the morning after, with Brianna sleeping in Doug's bed and him lying on the couch. She woke up, took in her surroundings, and was about to wring Doug's neck for taking advantage of her while she was drunk, when she found she was still in her formal dress from the night before. Wrinkled up and clinging to her fevered body like a second skin, but the dress had stayed on all night. She slowly got up from the bed, handled the post-hangover headache of seeing first sunlight as well as she could, and she walked towards the cupboard, taking a glass out and putting it under the faucet to strip her mouth of the malty and dry aftertaste of the night before. She drank it all up, then made her way to the side of Doug's couch. She shook him awake, and smiled at him, her eyes full of tears at how thankful she was that Doug came in at the right time.  
  
"Hey, feeling good? The Tylenols should've taken effect around four," he said to her as he woke up, his eyes fluttering open and closed to diffuse the light shock.  
  
"Much better, I don't remember much about last night except that I was thankful you were there, and that I'm driving only with you or Paris along from now on."   
  
Doug laughed at Brianna's little gem. "I just happened to see your car pulling into the wrong lot on my way back from the student union, and thought that wasn't you, since you really hate the sororities as much as I hate the frats." He tucked a stray strand of Brianna's hair behind her right ear, and started running his fingers through the long raven strands of her coif.  
  
"So you followed my car in and snuck into the house, being careful not to arouse suspicion?"  
  
"Everything I could without having to go all _Bosom Buddies _and walk in wearing a dress and horrible wig."  
  
"You'd look good as a woman, well, except for the biceps and the...lower portion of your body," Brianna joked. He laughed back at her, glad the sarcastic and witty Brianna he had known for a week was coming back.  
  
It was then a breath caught in her throat. Doug was completely clothed in the dream, so it wasn't an erotic dream in Brianna's world, but there was something about his dark blue eyes that was doing things to her thought processes. She moved closer to Doug, her gaze not leaving his, now stuck on her lips. They were being consumed by something that was alien to them both.  
  
"I want to thank you for saving me Doug, and this seems to be the best way to do it." In a very cavalier move, she closed the distance, and found herself kissing Doug. He managed out something himself before the rest of the dream ended up with them making out.  
  
"A very nice reward Bree," he muttered before he started nipping the girl's plump upper lip erotically with his teeth. The dream ended moments later, and Brianna woke up in her bed with a start around 3:30am, a sheen of perspiration coating her face. She found her body aroused, the hair on her arms standing on end as she struggled to regain her breath. She rose up on the bed and examined what the dream meant when she recalled what she could remember about it. At the time, she chalked it up to the shock of being alone and away from Antioch for the first time, and not being able to run to her mother to ask what the dream meant to her, and the shock of not having her father discourage her from dating like he usually did. _It can't be anything sexual, it's just trying to find comfort in a face I'm starting to find familiar, that's all_, she thought to herself as she went back to bed, and somehow fell back to sleep.  
  
Brianna found herself back in front of 319 as she came back into reality, facing the door.  
  
"Here goes nothing, you better lend us that video game system Doug," she said to herself as she knocked on the door lightly. She waited about a minute, and then Doug answered the door. He had a sort of straight face on as he opened the door, until he caught sight of Brianna's beautiful eyes.  
  
He almost melted into a puddle of goo on sight. His smile widened, and he tried to avert his gaze from below her face, which wasn't easy seeing as Brianna had on a blue button-down blouse opened two buttons down with the slightest hint of cleavage peeking out from beneath. Unlike Friday's meeting when she was wearing loose sweatpants, she had on a pair of cutoff jean shorts, which accentuated the length of her legs.  
  
_Stop, stop, stop Doug, she's here for something else, not you_, he thought to himself, building up his defenses against Brianna's beauty. He tried to stay distant from her as he invited her in.  
  
"So, what'd you need?" Doug asked as Brianna leaned against the counter.   
  
"Paris is an unathletic girl who has to write a story about volleyball on Friday night for the _Bruin_, so she went and rented a volleyball game from the video store. Problem is we don't have a console to play it on, and I have trust issues about renting video store equipment."  
  
"What's wrong with video store consoles?"  
  
"Besides the insane deposit you have to put down just to get it out the door, the controller feels too soft or too hard when you play the game on a rental unit, the cables that are included are usually damaged or of poor quality because Jimmy Bob from the trailer court on Hiawatha attempted to plug all three RCA jacks into the little ancient antenna jack where you have to screw the contacts in, and the system has been bumped more times than a piece of luggage at Denver's airport, thus making it unusable."  
  
"And you came in here to fume about renting an X-Box from the video store why?" Doug was happy, but confused.  
  
"Sorry," Brianna mumbled, blushing at how she was losing her mind in front of him. "I need to use your Playstation so me and Paris can play said volleyball game. You'll have it back by Friday night, I promise you."  
  
"Why didn't you ask that in the first place?" Doug said. "I have too much on my mind to play video games anyway, so it's cool."  
  
"Really? Thanks, you're a lifesaver." She smiled and they headed towards the TV corner. "If I wouldn't have gotten it Paris would've come back later and had a fencing match in the commons with you over the system."  
  
All Doug did was look at Brianna weirdly. He couldn't really say anything except, "Huh?" Brianna laughed at his reaction.  
  
"I'm afraid I'm not kidding about that, she came to blows with a friend holding a foil because she accidentally told some other friends about a boyfriend she was trying to keep secret."  
  
"I would not want to be that girl then."  
  
"Me either." The awkwardness had come back between Brianna and Doug, as he went over to disconnect the Playstation 2 from the TV. Brianna just sat on the chair, watching him and trying to keep any inappropriate thoughts out of her system. She decided to take her mind off of him by taking another look at his dorm. The pin-up girl posters were still up on the walls on his side of the room. However, his roommate's area looked very bare. There was nothing on their side of the wall, and the covers on the other bed seemed thin and institutional, like the blankets UCLA issued only because California law required them to give students 'room and board', which meant bare-bones sheets and blankets were issued on the first day. Brianna and Paris noticed that Doug never mentioned his roommate at all, only Ronnie from across the hall.  
  
Deciding to take a risk, Brianna decided to ask Doug about his roommate.  
  
"Hey, where's your roommate?"  
  
"Him? He's on one of those daytime soap operas, _The Bold and the Beautiful_ I think," he responded non-chalantly as he handed Brianna the console and controllers. "There you go, enjoy."  
  
"Hey, whoa, you have a soap star as your roommate?" Brianna was curious about this mystery hunk who happened to share the room with Doug.  
  
"No, I have a soap star as a roommate who claims to live here 24/7, but only is my 'roommate' so he can ward off the _Star_ and _Soap Opera Digest_ from learning where he really lives so they can bug him for spoilers. He was here for two days, then went back to his Malibu mansion with the blessing of the administration to die down the media."  
  
"They understand what?" Brianna didn't know what he meant by the actor being able to keep a room at UCLA and still live at home.  
  
"Understand that if they have an actor from a popular soap going to their school they'll get free publicity. All his publicist has to do is say that he lives here at the Saxons each time they ask about where he lives and is going to school, and you have the female boosters addicted to bad acting and bad sex sending the checks to UCLA in droves so their favorite character receives the best education possible." He hesitated and wished that Brianna would leave, because he didn't really want to tell her all this.  
  
"So basically because of some brainless hunk who acts on a really bad show, you're living in this dorm alone?" Brianna felt agitated, and was trying to figure out how to fix this situation. "Why don't they switch him and Ronnie around, you two are such good friends and would make fine roommates."  
  
"Oh we've tried, but admissions and Piper keep saying no to us," he huffed. "That would make Ronnie's rommie Jake the odd man out with a dorm alone, and though they really want to fill the space, they just can't until the inevitable flunk-out of the soap hunk because his housing's paid up for the year."  
  
"His housing is paid up for the year all right, but he's not living here--" Brianna was going to start to rant, when she felt Doug pat her on the shoulder.  
  
"It's alright though, I don't mind having my own dorm Bree, and it's fine. Sure, I don't have a true roommate, but look at it this way, at least I won't have to listen to him recite his inane dialogue into all hours of the night, and I have a lot of room to stretch out, without him being here I was able to fit an actual couch in this room."  
  
She laughed at his explanation. "Knowing soap opera stars on CBS, he probably would've Ikea'ed the room beyond belief, and your seating would've consisted of those painful knee chairs."  
  
"And if I get a girl in here, there's no need for them to have to share my cramped bed, they can just lay on his for the night," he joked to her.  
  
Instead of laughing back at Doug however, Brianna felt something else altogether. Butterflies fluttering in her stomach, and a shot of arousal going through her at the mention of Doug and his bed. Also, a small feeling of jealousy at any girl he would invite to spend the evening with him.  
  
_I don't want to be that girl_, she thought to herself, trying to keep any thoughts that would go above the MPAA's rating scale out of her head.  
  
"Or an even better idea, you can combine the two beds together and create a huge superbed to do the deed." After hearing her own words, said without thinking, Brianna flushed red. _Yeah, that got him out of your head Daugherty_.  
  
"I could, but I'm more of a guy who takes advantage of a spur-of-the-moment opportunity." Doug's voice was rather husky, and he too was starting to say things without running his thoughts through a filter. His eyes were drifting lower and lower from Brianna's neck, lingering for a small bit on her chest before falling down to her legs. He remembered how on Friday night when they were chatting in the lobby he found himself drawn to her thin yet curvy gams peeking out from behind her dress. His concentration remained fully on the conversation, but a little part of him continued to be obsessed with Brianna's legs. The stimuli from remembering that conversation was starting to arouse him, along with the way Brianna sat in the chair. Her shirt was wrinkling as she leaned towards the right side, and Doug tried to take his mind of the fact that between each of the blouse's buttons towards the middle, he could see slivers of peach lace and cotton from her bra.  
  
_Oh my God, get yourself under control Doug! If she sees you all flustered and staring at her inappropriately, you'll never have a shot with her, _he thought to himself, thankful that there was another distraction he could deal with before Brianna left his dorm with the PS2.  
  
"Er, I forgot to take my game out before I unplugged it, do you mind?" He held out his hands to try to get the unit back from Brianna.  
  
"Which game?"  
  
"_Vice City_, probably not yours or Paris' tastes," he said non-chalantly. However, Brianna firmed up, and she kept the system in her hands.  
  
"And what makes you think that, just because it's a game where an anti-social mobster takes out his aggression on an entire Floridian metropolis with multiple weapons, cars and motorcycles, it's not my taste? What, you think the only video games I play are those that appeal to women like shitty _Barbie _titles, and that I've never played a round of _Quake Arena_ in my life?"  
  
Doug stumbled for a response, not knowing what to say. "I didn't say that, I just--"  
  
"Just what, thought girly little Brianna doesn't know an anti-tank missile from a plasma gun? Well let me tell you something Doug, I bet you that if we had a game night one of these evenings after I'm done teaching Paris her volleyball basics, I could cream you at _Vice City_ or one of those games where the object is to maim as many men as possible. This," She pointed to the top of her head. "This not only knows just about every fact anyone could throw at me about the academic process, but this mind also knows the best strategy to capture the flag during a particularly heated internet gaming session, where I spent many a night after my homework was done and there was no charity project to finish or do."  
  
Doug didn't know how much more of Brianna he could take. _Damn it, she's beautiful, smart, and now I learn she's a gamer just like I am. Why doesn't God smite me right about now so I can die a happy man? _He knew if he continued on the conversation, he might want to start ramping up the silent flirting going on between them to a higher level. But there was the problem right there. Were they actually flirting, or was this just a friend wanting a friend? Doug didn't know for sure, and neither did Brianna. There was so much confusion, as this was the first time the two had really chatted since that sexually charged Friday night caused by Doug's towel.  
  
Brianna found Doug was speechless, and attributed it to her just-finished tangent. She decided it was better to save face and just leave rather than waiting for him to respond somehow.  
  
"So," she said. "I think I'm going to go hook this up, you don't mind if I keep _GTA Vice City_, do you? Not like you'll be able to play it for the next two days."  
  
"No, go ahead, sorry about that," he stumbled out as he guided Brianna to the door. "And I hope you give Paris a lot of hard knocks in the volleyball game, you seem to be a very talented player."  
  
"Thanks, I'll be sure to give her a butt-kicking just for you." She smiled back at him and turned to walk out, when she felt his hand on her shoulder.  
  
"By the way Bree? I'd be honored to take you on in a gaming session. Say, Friday night while Paris is in Northridge?"  
  
Her resolve to get through his invitation was strong, and she kept her composure. "Sure, can't wait. I'll see you then Doug."  
  
"You too Bree, take good care of my unit."  
  
"Will do." Doug shut the door, and Brianna started walking back to 343 with a bright smile on her face. _It may not be an official date, but it's a way to get to know him closer_, she thought to herself, almost giddy with excitement. Any thoughts about the past and Leonard were forgotten as she walked into her dorm and set up the video game system.  
  
Doug just sighed to himself and slumped onto the couch, letting his thoughts regather as he took in what happened in the last ten minutes.  
  
_I think I've finally moved on from Claudia, this has to be for real. Brianna's just an all-around wonderful girl, and she's got this stubbornness that's a downright turn on._ He let his thoughts fade back towards school and his regular life outside of school as a rerun of _Pokemon_ started unraveling its very thin and seizure-inducing plot on his television.  
  
"I can't wait till Friday night, you're mine Brianna," he said to himself, then quickly corrected himself to take out any possessive connection with his words. "Er, I'm going to beat you at _Halo_, I mean." He went back to watching dorkily animated kids using cute cartoon animals to vent their anger.  


* * *

Paris stood in line waiting to be checked out at the video store, her copy of _World Team Volleyball _in hand. When she went in she was hoping it wouldn't take her more than five minutes to rent the game, but as she walked in, the employees were swamped in by a mid-evening rush as Angelinos took advantage of one of the last weeks before the fall television season began to rent DVDs. Thus after she picked up the game, she ended up in a line that would take about ten minutes to clear. She fumed for a moment, and being the star pupil of her charm school when she was younger, waited patiently to pay for her game, whiny children coming from flag football behind her with _Daddy Day Care_ be damned.  
  
She didn't look up while she waited in the queue for the first few moments, preferring to go over the assignment on Friday night in her mind and how she would write up the story. She deduced one of two styles, focusing on UCLA's #1 player and her actions in the match, or the entire team with a basic rundown of the highlights of the match along with statistics and poll rankings in order to give a scientific spin to the story. _The stat geeks should have a ball reading my stories_, she thought to herself as she read the instructions printed on the back cover of the rental box. _X button, circle and square button, analog stick? I thought I was playing a game, not studying for a geometry final_. She hoped that this gaming session with Brianna would answer all her questions about the rules and regulations of the game, and didn't sound like a total idiot in any volleyball article she'd write.  
  
She was looking up at the price list when felt her cell phone vibrate in her pocket. Paris took it out and looked at the caller ID display on the front. The quartz display showed the caller as J MARIANO, and immediately she smiled when she realized who it was. Opening the phone and putting it to her ear, she took the call as she waited in line.  
  
"Hello, Paris here."  
  
"What's up Delirious P?" Jess asked her in a normal voice. Paris tried to hold back a laugh and take the call in a serious matter, but found herself laughing at his greeting.  
  
"You're never going to let me live down my attempt at being urban, are you?" She amusingly rolled her eyes.  
  
"Afraid not Paris, you're stuck with it forever. What I would've given for a tape recording of you representing the HFD."  
  
"At least you have the memories Jess," she responded, trying to start the conversation. "So, first things first, how did the biology test end up?"  
  
"You're not going to kill me if I said I got an 87, I know you wanted me to get all of them right."  
  
Paris smiled and took pride in her new pupil. "A B+, not bad, and definitely an improvement on your 49 you got in your last science class in the Hollow. See what I told you Jess, you put your nose to the grindstone and you'll receive a great grade in the end. All you need to do is keep that up in biology and all of your other classes, and more importantly, take your homework seriously. I don't like it myself, but it teaches you that academic life isn't a confined seven hour block divided into periods, its 24/7. Trust me when I say that you'll understand things more when you do your homework than when you just listen to the lesson and don't do anything else."  
  
"So you're happy with my grade?" Jess' apprehension about divulging the grade that wasn't quite 90 faded.  
  
"If you got a 100 I might've been a little suspicious that you peeked at your neighbor's paper, but I was expecting either an 87 or 91 to be honest. Those two questions about the origins of the DNA theory were stymieing you throughout the session, and there was that stray one that got away where you mixed up Salk and Watson as to who discovered DNA."  
  
"Well I'm not the only one who didn't know about the DNA theory questions, only two girls in the entire class managed to get them right, and even then the answers seemed to be exactly like the passage from the book, so they took it right from memory."  
  
"Next," the clerk at the counter said, and Paris found herself at the head of the queue. Paris handed the woman the game to scan, along with her debit card.  
  
"Hold on a moment Jess, I have to check out, OK?" She struggled to hold the phone up to her ear, and Jess could hear in the background the sounds of Paris trying to dig a pen out from the deep reaches of her purse.  
  
"Sure, you've got your hands full, I'll wait." It took a few minutes to check out though, because Paris needed to re-register her membership so that her information was updated. She then remembered that a stop at the DMV would be needed soon, since her Connecticut driver's license and plates would expire in about thirty days. After divulging so much information to the clerk that she felt like Sydney Bristow being interrogated by SD-6, she was finally able to rent the video game and leave Hollywood Video, with the assurance from the clerk that next time wouldn't take so long. She hoped not, judging from the dirty looks being doled out towards her from the flag football kids.  
  
Paris left the store and got in her car, starting the conversation with Jess again.  
  
"So what's up, there's another reason you called me besides telling me your quiz scores, wasn't there?"  
  
"Actually, there is. You know my dad Jimmy from the phone call on Friday, right?"  
  
"How could I forget, the guy hung up on me twice thinking I was a French national." She laughed as she shifted into first gear and merged onto Westwood Blvd.  
  
"Yeah, he's sorry for that by the way, he's not a fan of either telemarketers or foodservice companies trying to sell him the next great mass hot dog cooker. He was wondering though, do you have anything to do on Friday night?"  
  
Paris dreaded answering Jess' question immediately. "Why?" she asked shakily.  
  
"Because he wanted to invite you to dinner with him and me at our house, I don't know. He's been teasing me the last couple of days about being whipped by you and stuff."  
  
"Aww, how adorable, is he singing the spiel about love, marriage and the baby carriage yet?" She tried keeping a happy face on everything before she had to turn him down.  
  
"He will be by Friday night, and he seems eager to meet you Par. Would you be able to come down here?" He seemed to have a pleading tone to his voice, as if the dinner would only be a small portion of the night. Paris imagined them curling up on Jess' couch and repeating the movie portion of the night from last week once again, along with the silent and teasing flirting both of them were doing to each other, especially towards the end of the evening.  
  
_Damn it Broughton, I've never put my social life before work before, and the one time I want to you blocked it! _She wished there was some way to fit in both the story in Northridge and Jess into one night, but she couldn't see it happening at all unless Jess wanted to eat at midnight. She breathed harshly into the phone's mic, and dreaded turning him down.  
  
"I have newspaper work Friday night and I won't be home until late Jess, I'm sorry. If I could get out of it I would, but I have to really impress my editor, otherwise I'll be stuck doing the community calendar for the rest of the year."  
  
"It's OK Smartie, I'll let Jimmy know not to expect you on Friday." Jess sounded almost sad over the phone, and Paris could sense it behind his chauvinistic tone of voice.  
  
"Jess," she pleaded, "If you would've called earlier, there would be no hesitation that I would've said yes and I would've tried to get out of my story up in Northridge if it was thrown on me. But this doesn't mean I don't want to come down to Venice, maybe next week I'll come down there and visit you and Jimmy, I'm sorry I couldn't this Friday. It's just that though I don't want to be UCLA's #1 student, I do want to be chief editor of the _Bruin_, and it's going to take a lot of hard work to impress the faculty chief, she's starting me out on sports and the sooner I finish these assignments, the greater my freedom will be when it comes to story choice and subject matter." She turned right onto the first side street she came to, and pulled the car off the road. "Please say you're not mad at me Reb, your friendship means so much to me right now."  
  
"I knew what I was getting into when I decided to befriend you Par, there's no way I could be mad at you at all. You're driven beyond all belief and there's no way I'd be able to stop you from getting your hands on the prize." He shifted in the chair he was sitting in, the clank of the forklifts muffled by the drywalls of Target's employee breakroom. "Look, I know that it's tough learning to settle into a new city and a new school, and look how that ended up in the Hollow when I was there. Right now, you're not feeling all that control of your world yet, and you have to get used to a whole new set of people and friends telling you what you should and shouldn't do. I just don't want to be a distraction if you don't want me to--"  
  
"Jess, that is the last thing in the world you are to me!" She said into the phone sternly. "Don't ever put yourself down like that ever again. You are far from a distraction to me, and God, without you here to confide in about things, I'd feel so alone among the palms and the sunshine. Sure I have Brianna as a roommate, but she don't understand me all that well yet, you've had several doses of me to digest. I'm not going to give up on being a good friend and mentor to you Reb, even if I have to juggle it with school and the _Bruin_." She was about at the point of near tears; no boy and his friendship had ever affected her so much in her life, even Tristan's. The growing feelings of love for Jess inside of her heart were also getting to her, and all she wanted is for Jess to strive to be the best he could.  
  
Jess was silent over the phone for about a minute, trying to figure out what meaning there was behind her wanting to be a friend and mentor. When Jimmy had asked him to invite Paris over, there wasn't even hesitation or whining to try to make the elder Mariano change his mind, Jess looked forward to Paris next to him at the dinner table. His first thought when he had come home from school was to call Paris and tell her the good news, until he remembered that this was day one for the _Bruin_ staff. He decided to call later, and hope against hope that whatever assignment wouldn't interfere with Friday night.  
  
But Paris wasn't coming over on Friday night, and though it wasn't her fault, Jess was still hurt. Until he remembered the hurdles of his past relationships. With the nameless women he saw in Brooklyn, the reasons ranged from revulsion from being seen with such a guy to being cheated on harshly and without regard to his feelings. One relationship Jess had even ended acrimoniously because the girl refused his simple request for a condom because she wanted to feel him 'naturally' despite her mother's plea not to have reckless sex. There was his time with Rory, where the reasons ranged from the hatred by the townspeople of the Hollow for pursuing their princess, Dean, Lorelai, and the entire accident, along with the summer in Washington. Not to mention Luke and Lorelai's silent flirting, which made Jess feel at times like he was Billy Bob eyeing his first cousin Sophie Mae when he thought of Rory...in that way.  
  
_This is the smallest obstacle ever, and she'll still be here in the morning_, he thought to himself as he realized that a relationship with Paris might be hard at first, but the barriers in trying to pursue a friendship and even more would be easily passable. There was the whole issue of Rory finding out, but him and Paris would cross that bridge later, along with the blessings of the elder Gellars and her nanny. The only impediment was their schedules, and even with that they both could scrounge up time somewhere to meet. Brianna and Jimmy, the closest people to Paris and Jess respectively in Los Angeles both endorsed their friendship completely, no strings attached, and were encouraging it further.   
  
Of course, no thought like this couldn't be completed without something impure, and Jess came up with a doozy, which involved him and Paris copulating after a passionate argument about something little that almost turned into a bar brawl between them. Right on the counter of her kitchenette. With Brianna walking in on them. The ugly red vest he had to wear to work with a bullseye on the right breast was suddenly Jess' best defense against his colleagues noticing he was having unbecoming thoughts about the girl he was talking to on the phone.  
  
"Jess? You still there?" Paris asked after a bit, after checking her battery and finding the juice fully charged up. She heard Jess cough and clear his throat.  
  
"Yeah, I'm here, sorry. And I completely understand, I'm sorry if I made it seem as if I was an annoying part of your life. It's just I don't want to ruin this like I did back in Stars Hollow with Rory. You're a great chick and although we didn't know each other that well in Connecticut, I'd love to know you a lot more than through run-ins with each other when you had to be in town for Rory."  
  
She smiled, happy that little bump had been negotiated by both of them masterfully. "Yeah, me too Jess, I never really understood why everyone hated you so much in the first place, you were just a victim of circumstance, that's all."  
  
"What about when I kidnapped the lawn gnome?"  
  
"If you were on a dairy farm in Wisconsin and found yourself next to a cow, your first instinct would be to 'blank'?" She asked him, emphasizing blank like Gene Rayburn would do on _Match Game '74_.  
  
"Tip the cow over?"  
  
"Correct. See, you were a city guy relocated to a suburban setting and with a history of mischief making. My argument if you were prosecuted for the theft would be you were a moth driven to the flame and you **had** to kidnap the gnome, it was in your nature and ingrained in your mind to cause chaos via that method, and if you didn't you'd be driven insane with fury each time you passed Babbette's house. If she owned a dairy in rural Connecticut, the gnome would be a cow and you'd end up tipping her over to cause trouble."  
  
"You think about this stuff way too much, don't you?" He laughed at her defense theory.  
  
"Got to have something to do between classes, my shortest walk is eight minutes between buildings, and a between period break is twenty long minutes."  
  
"Glad to know none of your brain power is going to waste." Paris suddenly heard a loud tone in the background, indicating the end of Jess' break. "Damn, back to the salt mines, or as the Dayton-Hudson Corporation likes to call it the toys and games department. God I can't wait till a position in electronics opens up so I can get a promotion, some of these kids are annoying."  
  
"Now, now Jess, they're being fed that they have to be that way by the Mattel and Hasbro corporations in cooperation with Nickelodeon, if it wasn't for them childhood would be downright boring."  
  
"Yeah, I guess you're right. I should get going then, it's almost rush hour and my boss needs everyone on the floor."  
  
"Have a good rest of the day, and I'll talk to you later Jess." Before she hung up, she needed to make sure that Jess' dinner table invitation was still open. "By the way, Jess?"  
  
"Yeah?" He was rushed yet still sticking to Paris' every word.  
  
"I'll take a raincheck on dinner in Venice, say next week Friday to meet Jimmy?"  
  
"Yeah, he's already looking forward to it." He smiled, happy that the conversation ended on a high note. "Talk to you soon Paris."  
  
"You too, goodbye Jess."   
  
"Bye Paris." Even in the larval stages of love, Paris kept her ear on the phone until she heard the last click of the hang-up and her cell reverted to the sound of a dial tone.  
  
"Darn my father for giving me that hopeless romantic gene," she cursed to herself as she U-turned on La Grange and turned back onto Westwood. She brought herself back into her journalistic state of mind, and prepared for the predicted drubbing of her ass by Brianna that would be repeated about 93 times in the next two days.  


* * *

**_To be continued...  
  
_Next Chapter: **Paris takes on Brianna in the volleyball video game and confronts her about her game of avoidance with Doug, and Brianna will have to face up to the fact that she's in love. And at the game Paris makes a new friend in her photographer, can they get along and keep Mrs. Broughton satisfied? Well with Paris thinking about what she's missing in Venice, it might not be as easy as she may have thought. Hopefully Jess can stop by the dorm and make her feel happy somehow.  



	6. Sore Thumbs and Welcome Surprises

**Title: Bruins and Rebels | Chapter Six | Sore Thumbs and Welcome Surprises  
Author: **Nate  
**Pairing:** Paris/Jess, Brianna/Doug and couplings with the ancillary characters introduced in later chapters.  
**Spoilers: **How can I spoil anything if the Jess spin-off series is never going to exist? OK, so there's still that _Big One_ spoiler from chapter one, but besides that, I can't spoil something that isn't there anymore (looks disappointedly at the suits at Warner Brothers for canceling the whole idea).  
**Rating:** PG-13 (swearing, sexual innuendo, thoughts and allusions).  
**Disclaimer:** Amy Sherman-Palladino, Hofflund-Pollone and Warner Bros. Television own the Paris and Jess characters, along with the dead spin-off idea. Other trademarks are owned by their respective companies. Contrary to popular belief, I do not own the hair Liza cut off over the summer to create that cute new short 'do she's sporting in the new WB teaser promos (Turns into a puddle of mush imagining Paris hugging me tight instead of Rory in the promo).  
**Archiving: **Usual suspects; FF.net and LWL. Make sure to ask if you want to archive it yourself.  
**Summary:** Paris and Brianna spend time talking out their feelings about their beaus, then Paris makes a new friend in her photographer at the UCLA volleyball match she's covering against her will. Meanwhile, Brianna gets to know Doug a little more, and there's surprises in store at the end of the evening.  
**Author's** **Notes: **I apologize for the long wait between chapters five and six, but I felt the summer blahs hard this year, thus I didn't feel like writing all that much despite the plot forming in my head (I'm also putting blame on Ellen Muth from _Dead Like Me _for the way she looks in tight jeans and tiny shirts, she was such a distraction over the summer. Is she allowed to look that freakin' hot playing a dead girl?!). It was only through divine intervention (OK, Liza's appearance on the _West Wing_ showing on Bravo Labor Day and Mila on _The Michael Essany Show_ last night for some guidance) that I was able to get this chapter out. I also had to clear up the plot a few times since I took the storyline in some different directions than I intended earlier in the chapter.  
  
The usual thanks to my betas (Ash and Jamie) for being patient and putting up with the length of my stories, they're nuts for reading them and making sure everything makes sense. For those who reviewed chapter five and have stuck around after all these months, thanks so much. And thanks to the Whipper Dippers on-thread (Jamie, Reeka, Susie, Kelly, Priya) for keeping my love for Paris and Jess strong. If Milo's coming back, Jess is going to get an education from Paris about S&M darn it ;)!  
  
[blatant plug]Speaking of Dipper fic, coming soon check out the username DipperRoundRobin for great contributions from all of us at the Whipper Dipper thread we all did together in order to keep the Dipper flame strong. You'll love them all, I promise.[/blatant plug]  
  
On with the show without further adieu, party people in the place to be!  


* * *

"Come on you stupid little man, volley the damned ball, your arms are right under it!" Paris was learning all about volleyball just fine from Brianna, but at the same time getting drubbed in the school of hard knocks by her brunette partner-in-crime. In the fourth hour of gaming after an exhaustive history of the game, overviews of strategies and a quick quiz by Brianna, Paris felt ready to take on the former All East Bay star for JV Antioch in a few matches of _World Team Volleyball_. After a few training matches, Paris won the first two sets by a small margin. But since then, she had been defeated in four matches in a row, with three shutout sets during the matches. It was eleven at night though, and even if Brianna was a seasoned gamer who was taking on an admitted novice, the strain of staring at the same screen for three hours was starting to make Brianna a little light-headed. Paris' advantage of having a longer class schedule at Chilton and staring at teachers as they lectured for ninety straight minutes was starting to become apparent. Her French team was starting to rally from a two set deficit against the Daugherty Americans, and in the last set of the night Paris was up 29-26, with Brianna trying to make a last ditch comeback.  
  
"Par, you're up by three, can't we call it a night and head to bed, we'll continue the game tomorrow morning. My thumbs are numb and my hand hurts like hell," Brianna was whining, wishing she could just end the game and put drops in her eyes. She had taken her contacts out after the second match and wearing the eyeglasses she rarely wore after she got contacts when she was twelve.  
  
"I'm going to beat this game, and I'm going to beat you Bree, even if it takes me all night." Paris was being very stubborn and held onto the controller for dear life, extra calluses forming on her thumb from one too many mashes of the X and O buttons on her controller. She had to admit that bonding with another girl over the cool glow of a TV screen was unorthodox, yet fun. During the game they both talked about the latest happenings with Jess and Doug, and Paris wasn't surprised to hear about Brianna going to Doug's dorm to play games with him Friday night while she was up in Northridge. She was smart and noticed the slight disappointment Doug showed when he stopped by the last three days and found Brianna already gone. _Something happened between them, but it's not my place to pry in and play yenta. They'll figure things out soon enough_, she thought as her roommate kept denying she was thinking of Doug in an attractive way.  
  
"Oh fine, but if you lose this point I'm calling this game a draw and you are getting to bed young lady. Don't forget you have that book report on _The Greatest Generation_ you have to final draft before you head off into dreamland."  
  
"I'm just going to add a couple sentences and correct some errors, no need to puff up a piece further where I call Tom Brokaw a panderer for writing a book glorifying the AARP generation to no end. If it wasn't for those GI's and the creators of Levittown America would still be a mainly urban society, the outskirts of town would still be the playgrounds of the kids instead of the rich, and racial integration would've been a breeze, along with traffic."  
  
"So in theory, it's all their fault that your parent's childhood sucked beyond belief and in turn yours?" Brianna was puzzled, yet interested in Paris' theory.  
  
"Exactly my friend, exactly. I'm lucky though, the Manor is in an older section of Hartford so I don't have any of that disillusioned suburban kid bullshit to deal with." Paris served the ball and awaited Brianna to return it with her six little guys. It sailed towards the back of the screen, and one of the pixilated players in blue bounced it towards the front line, where #8 was waiting to set it for #10 for a hard spike onto the French side, and hopefully Brianna's 27th point of the set. #8 set the ball in the air, and #10 approached the ball with fury, bashing the ball over the net and towards Paris' middle line, unprotected since Paris was relying on a 4-2 defense.  
  
"Crap!" Paris found she had to think fast in order to save the ball and the match for herself. Her red #5 player deep in the back towards the serving line ran left and up for dear life in order to bounce the ball inches off the ground back into the air. She smashed in the face of her triangle button and held her left analog stick hard in the left-and-up axis position, tuning out Brianna's call for the ball to 'hit the floor, hit the floor', along with what might have been music once upon a time in the background, but was now grating notes coming out of the TV's tinny speakers.  
  
She held her breath and it seemed like slow motion as the computerized player made a desperate slide onto the hardwood below. The only thing she could do for the next few milliseconds was wait and hope #5 got the ball in the air high enough so #2 could spike it in-between Brianna's strong 3-3 line. She closed her eyes, feeling just as nervous as when she found out her SAT scores. The moment seemed to last forever, and her fingers were crossed within her.  
  
Moments later, Paris felt the satisfying tactile response of her controller shaking and vibrating roughly and heard the sound of a hard hollow thump, meaning #5's mission to keep the ball in the air had been successful, and in the ensuing shock, Brianna's focused player was at the net in victory dance position, far away from where #2 would be targeting his hit towards. Brianna's thumb tried guiding the little guy towards the middle in a last act of desperation to save the game, but was unsuccessful as French jersey #2 gave the ball a hard kill over the net at about 75 mph, and with a high bounce, it bounced right in the middle of Brianna's playing field and out of sight as the shiny font came onscreen and a disembodied computer voice announced the final score. "Game, set and match to France, score 30-26. France wins three sets to two."  
  
Brianna looked at her roommate nervously, Paris looking as if she was going to break out with the bad 'Bears Super Bowl Shuffle'-like dance moves any second and going all Deion Sanders on her for her first ever video game win.  
  
Instead, Paris just pumped her first in the air and squeaked, then said "I win", smiling at herself. She then turned to face Brianna.  
  
"You've been a fine opponent Brianna, and a great mentor, thank you." Paris turned off the PS2 and started wrapping up her controller, leaving Brianna confused. She stood up and started wrapping her own controller.  
  
"What, no victory dance or rubbing the loss in my face Par? This isn't fencing where you shake hands at the end babe, you have to make sure I'll never forget this loss and that I'll have a little resentment built up the next time we take each other on," Brianna said with a hint of cockiness in her voice. Paris looked at her and scrunched her eyebrows in annoyance.  
  
"Hey, it's my first win, I'm still learning how to navigate the post-game afterglow." She huffed, and made a promise to Brianna. "Next time I win I promise I'll be in your face telling you how much you suck, and that this is called kicking your ass, etcetera, etcetera. But I'm not doing any dances because I have a ballet teacher from my early years I still look up to."  
  
"Fine, fine, I'll let you be a winner with good sportsmanship, but just this once." Paris headed over to her iBook to finish her drafting as Brianna lay down on the couch watching the late night weather on Eyewitness News. "So, you seemed a little down when you got home from renting the game, what happened?"  
  
The blonde turned around in her computer chair. "Jess called to invite me to dinner with him and his father Friday night, and I had to reject him. We almost fought over the phone and I felt like such a horrible friend for telling him I couldn't see him this week. I mean sure I have his number, but it just isn't the same talking to him personally. I look forward to meeting him, yet I do look forward to his calls, don't get me wrong. It's just that, God, Jess is just--"  
  
"The One in your life right now," Brianna completed. "And you felt like by putting the _Bruin_ first over him, you were a bad girlfriend."  
  
"That's girl-friend Bree, we're not that close yet," Paris said, separating the dreaded word into two as clearly as possible.  
  
"Yeah, yeah, blah-blah-blah-denialcakes, when you took your bath last night I heard a lot of splashing and a strong smell of rosemary and lavender bubble bath. Unless you reverted back to being age two and were playing with your rubber duckie and boat, you were in there having a fantasy about Jess."  
  
"Oh come on, every time I go in the bathroom to bathe or shower now according to you I'm having erotic thoughts about him! May I ask how long I was in there and what proof you have about me having said thoughts, humor me please."  
  
"You were in there a finger-wrinkling two hours and I ended up running downstairs to the commons to use the restroom because you wouldn't respond to my hard knocks on the door to get the hell out. All I heard in response is 'Five more minutes, I'm in the middle of something' as if you were an actress in a Herbal Essences commercial. It didn't take a scientist at the JPL in Pasadena to figure out you were in the middle of something alright."  
  
"What did I tell you about entendres Brianna?" Paris said, blushing and facing up to the truth. "So I took an extra long bath and napped a little thinking of Jess, a normal girl would do that."  
  
"Yes, but you came out and went immediately to bed, wrapped up in the flannel Jess left behind Friday night." Brianna looked straight at Paris, who was wearing Jess' flannel, buttoned down three places, horribly matched up with a pair of blue UConn sweatpants. "You haven't worn any pajamas from your drawer since Saturday night; every night you go in the bathroom and change into Jess' shirt. Wouldn't he want that back by now?"  
  
"Finders keepers," she asserted. "It's not like he misses it anyways, and I'll give it back one of these days. It's a nice shirt, very comfy, large thread count--"  
  
"And it smells of one Jess Mariano's cologne. You have to wash it one of these days Par, it's going to start having your essence on it soon enough, and you'll lose the scent."  
  
"Maybe that's what I want Brianna, maybe I want him to walk around in this shirt when I give it back to him and be reminded of me each and every time he puts it on. After seven days, he leaves it here, it smells of him, and seven days later, it has my fragrance. It's like joint custody, only without the messy divorce and child support thing going on. I plan to give it back to him when I come over to his house next Friday night."  
  
"Paris," Brianna demanded. "Go in the bathroom right now and change into a regular nightshirt, Jess' flannel needs a break."  
  
"I won't do it, you can't force me." Paris pouted and wrapped her arms around her midsection, cuddling the plaid flannel as close as she could to her body.  
  
"Why not?" Instead of seeming predatory however, Brianna had that look that said she was going to get some kind of confession out of her friend.  
  
Paris hesitated, got up from the computer chair, then sat down next to Brianna. "Because, it's a comfort knowing that even though Jess is in Venice and 150-some blocks away from here, I'm wearing something of his. It just makes me feel so safe and comforting. When he held my hand on Friday night, it just felt...I don't know, so right, and by the time bedtime rolled around, I was already missing him, but not in the freaky stalkerish pining way. Then when I came upon the shirt when I cleaned the dorm on Saturday, my first reaction was to run down to Venice and drop the shirt off at his house. But then I decided to try it on, and when I saw myself in the mirror wearing it, it reminded me of the handhold. Each time I got a whiff of the shirt, it was like Jess' arms were around me and..." She huffed, some hair going astray as the breath drifted up her face. "God, I must sound like a lovesick puppy, or a pathetic piner."  
  
"No, you sound like a girl in love, but not ready to face up to it quite yet." Brianna edged closer to her friend on the couch, and took Paris' hand. "Look, you're in the beginning stages of a relationship that's confusing the hell out of you, and adding the stress that's being caused by starting UCLA, you're feeling vulnerable Par. But it's OK, completely, and the only reason I asked you to change the shirt was to help you get those worries and concerns out. You have a pretty good head on your shoulders, and you'll figure everything out soon."  
  
"I know I will, but Rory won't," Paris shot back. "If I tell her that 'oh, by the way I met your ex-boyfriend at a fast food joint two weeks ago and I think I'm falling in love with him', she's going to feel so betrayed at my hands. I kept her companionship at bay for so long because I needed to maintain my rep at Chilton, when really I had a best friend in her all along. I've put her through needless crap the last three years, and she wanted to befriend me despite all of it. And through it all, I kept my mouth shut about my feelings for Jess all through their relationship. The delayed study sessions, him picking her up from school in his ugly brown gas guzzler, the _Franklin_ articles a day late because she was going out with him that night. I never admitted this to anyone but myself, I wanted to be Rory. But I don't want to ruin my friendship with her."  
  
"Don't feel like you have to choose between Rory and Jess." The serious and caring tone Brianna was taking was comforting to Paris, and she listened to each of her words raptly. "If you don't want to tell her right away about seeing Jess and befriending him, I'll keep it secret from her if she calls, you have my word. You two are best friends, but you each have different lives. She has the relative comfort and closeness of being only so far from her family and mother in New Haven, while you decided to uproot yourself from the safe and sheltered life you lived for eighteen years and made a big cross-country move to a town that's about as familiar to you as the surface composition of Pluto. Now I may not know Jess, but I'm sure he's sitting on his bed in Venice, fretting over the same concerns you are, but with the extra challenge of choosing between someone he loved in the past and trying to spark a fire with you. I hope to never have that experience myself when it comes to Leonard, but even with your higher IQ, his thoughts are just as clouded as yours."  
  
"And that's what frustrates me Bree, I'm scared of what's going to happen once I decide that Rory and Hartford be damned, I want this. Is he going to feel the same about me, and am I showing enough interest to keep the spark lit up in the first place? Here two weeks ago I thought the biggest strain I'd have to deal with in college would involve time management, and suddenly here I am, telling a girl I only knew from a stray appearance on a TV game show two years ago about my romantic trials and tribulations as if was the next important plot on _One Life to Live_ in-between wanting someone to wring that annoying little banshee Star's neck for being such a pint-sized bitch!"  
  
"We're making progress then, _As the World Turns_ should be ancient history in your life within weeks." Brianna laughed and rubbed Paris' arm. "But seriously, this is the first time you have a guy who you're just about crazy in love with, and you're afraid of what everyone else thinks. There was Jamie, but he was safe, predictable, rote, and the wildest thing he probably ever did was look at the answers in the back of the textbook."  
  
"Or the teacher's edition, he was never very adventurous at all."  
  
"You mean he never made you scream?" Brianna questioned with a mischievous glint in her eye.  
  
"Unless you count my high-pitched utterance of 'My Jamie, you're so...modest down there', I'm afraid that no, he never had that effect on me." Paris' smirk was almost too much for both to bear, and her and Brianna had an out-of-body experience, giggling like Madeline and Louise used to do whenever Paris had them over at the Manor to study with her.  
  
"You meant to say small but--"  
  
"I memorized that part of the thesaurus, so I had plenty of other words I could use to make it easy on him. Let's just say he tried to overcompensate his endowment by mangling the metric system for his own twisted needs."  
  
"Ouch, that small?"  
  
"He didn't top the 15cm line, even erect." Paris felt a pang of guilt maligning her first love so badly, but what she was telling Brianna was true and hilarious at the same time. If this were the 60s and she was a flower child in Berkeley, he would've been one of those lame singers you found on _The Lawrence Welk Show_, the epitome of lameness no matter what generation you're in. Romance via the Zagat survey turned out to be a very bad idea, but Paris was getting over it. She decided to turn the tide of conversation towards Brianna's avoidance of Doug. "But enough about Jamie, he's an idiot, all in the past, bygones and so on, it's my turn to have you confide in me. What's going on between you and Doug?"  
  
Brianna turned white the moment the question was asked, and tried a pre-emptive move. "Nothing," she blurted abruptly, rubbing the left stem of her glasses and tucking some hair behind it. She looked away from Paris, trying to hide the effect that just hearing her crush's name was having.  
  
"So you mean nothing as in you and Doug just pass each other in the halls and don't acknowledge or look at each other, or nothing as in you want something but you're both too stubborn to admit it?"  
  
"Nothing as in there's nothing between us at all," Brianna said defensively. "He's a guy on my floor and he happened to talk to me on Friday night and had a PS2 handy. Nothing odd or having sexual connotations between us, I assure you."  
  
"Well," Paris' lips curled into a conspirital grin. "Ronnie in 318 would beg to differ, he's been noticing Doug's been faraway and distant since Saturday morning."  
  
"What?!" Brianna's eyes popped out, as if she was being found out. "Nothing has happened between us, honest to God."  
  
"Bree, I talked to Ronnie because he asked me for some notes in Jiminez's class yesterday, and he wondered as I made copies on the commons machine if I had done something to get revenge on Doug for the handshake incident. I denied it immediately, and he was wondering why Doug was being distant. He said tried to set Doug up on a date Saturday night with some sophomore girl in the DeNeves, but Doug turned the girl down sight unseen and he hadn't been saying things like 'check out that chick's rack' since he first saw him Saturday morning."  
  
"So, he's not himself lately, big deal." Brianna scoffed and got up from the couch, trying to make a beeline for her bed. Paris grabbed her arm and plopped her right back down.  
  
"Ronnie also told me that he heard a certain girl from the East Bay Area complain to herself that she wasn't a siren and didn't have much to offer from behind a dorm door around one in the morning Friday evening. She also called herself a prude and a said to herself that a guy wouldn't want her."  
  
Brianna held her tongue, afraid to confirm the fact that Ronnie's words were her own muttering. "So, that could be anyone, there's lots of girls from San Francisco and Oakland who go to UCLA."  
  
"Brianna, when you came back in after getting the money from Doug you just said goodnight and went right to bed, you didn't say anything else to me. And on Saturday morning when you woke up and I asked how Doug was doing you said he was just fine and changed the subject within moments to schoolwork. What I also don't get is the last three days you've avoided him, but you jumped at the chance to ask for his Playstation and to have a gaming night on Friday night with him." Paris stayed persistent, regarding her roommate just like she would Louise and Madeline. "Don't lie to me, you've been distant towards Doug, and I've noticed it myself, because when I try to call him a jerk or something of that sort, you get this look in your eyes, they slit and you give me this stare saying 'How dare you.'"  
  
"I'm going to bed," Brianna responded coolly, making a move to get up from the couch. "Me and Doug have nothing going on, and we're like you and Jess, just friends. Ronnie is just manipulating and trying to start a rumor his ass can't cash."  
  
"So that wasn't you on Friday night who said those things, because Ronnie also mentioned that Doug took a shower just around the time you came for the money."  
  
"How was I supposed to know Doug was gonna only be wearing a tow--" She screamed and stopped before she could cause more damage to the story, but it was too late. Brianna blanched and tried to string together an excuse that would get Paris off her case.  
  
"That is to say that wasn't me, I mean I..." Brianna trailed off, noticing Paris give her the patented look of doom with the small addition of a smirk.  
  
"So it was you, I knew it!"  
  
"I'm not talking about this anymore tonight, there is going to be no us and there will never be an us." Brianna loosened Paris' grip on her hand and headed over to her bed. "Yes I saw him in just a towel, big deal. Doesn't mean I'm in love with the boy at all."  
  
"But you're at lust with him at least," Paris deduced. "Something that can blossom into love after awhile."  
  
She crawled beneath the covers, hiding her face beneath them. "No one is forcing me to fall in love with Doug, so I just won't do it. We're totally wrong for each other anyways, he's social, I'm introverted, never going to work." Paris tried to speak, but was stopped. "And don't try to tell me you and Jess have a similar thing going, you're both introverted."  
  
"I was going to say opposites attract actually, only it was going to be better phrased than that and less cliché." At the foot of Brianna's bed, Paris sat down, trying to calm her friend while at the same time trying to keep the wounds of Leonard closed. "Apparently he's crazy enough for you if he turns down a tempting chance at scoring some older and more mature flesh and decides to cut the chauvinist act completely off suddenly. Don't you dare tell me that nothing sexual ran through your mind as you saw him in that towel either, you're a red-blooded female."  
  
Brianna brought her bedcovers down, and let down her defenses a little bit. "Fine, I did have thoughts about Doug that would get me forty whacks in a Catholic school back in the 30s, but just thoughts, that's it, I can put them aside."  
  
"Hmm, I'll have to tell him you have a little Catholic schoolgirl fantasy lurking within you." Paris smiled mischievously and started turning out lights throughout the dorm room.  
  
"You tell him and I'll look up Jess' number in the white pages and tell him about your sleep talking dream where you wanted to seduce him in your high school uniform!"  
  
"Oh God, when did I dream that?!" Paris flushed beet red as she flicked the last light in the dorm room not next to her bed off.  
  
"Tuesday morning around four, and from the sounds of it you were trying to warm DreamJess to the idea of skinny dipping in the Chilton pool." Brianna's smile was wide, and Paris rolled her eyes as she crawled into her bed, annoyed.  
  
"Well this is just great, for years and years my sleep talking is harmless, debates with Einstein about why E=MC², editorial discussions with Hearst and Pulitzer and how I think even though they epitomized yellow journalism they're geniuses, and how the chief of ConnDot could've constructed the Hartford expressway system better, completely harmless discussions with famous intellectuals. Then I meet Jess once again out here, and within days I've become his dream slut! Next thing you know my dream self is going to pull a Sandra Dee and go all out with the spandex and leather and take up smoking."  
  
"And that would be bad why?"  
  
"Because my hair doesn't curl as well as Olivia Newton-John's," Paris joked sarcastically. "Someday I'm going to have gotten three hours of sleep, and I'm going to accidentally nap in class. And that's when it's going to hit the fan that the #3 student in Hartford has a subconscious that dreams up situations that would make even the girls of Vivid Video cry uncle."  
  
Brianna thought for a moment, and came up with a way for Paris' sleep talking to become less heated. "My suggestion would to read a very boring book before bed instead of a romance, that's how the seed gets planted in the first place. You read a book about journalism, you'll have a dull foreign policy discussion with Margaret Carlson. _The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn_, you'll just be 12 year-old Becky in the 1840's, where an unholy thought of Tom Sawyer gets you a painful whacking. Heck, read one of those really bad _7th Heaven _novelizations, and you'll have a ball being like Joan of Arc, the only hope to restore sanity to the community of Glenoak because of the Camdens' wacky interpretation of the Bible."  
  
Paris laughed at the image of herself trying to inspire Ruthie to be her own girl and telling matriarch of the Camden clan Annie to cork it, then giving Lucy a piece of her mind because she was a whiny twit with nothing better to do than take her mother's lead. Brianna's idea sounded inspired, and although she'd miss drifting into a world of men and women with high libidos, she wouldn't miss having to fess up to her newest unbelievable fantasy situation with Jess revealed aloud at three in the morning. Instead of taking a Harlequin off the bottom bookshelf of her nightstand, she reached into the back and took out her new copy of _Scientific American _and started to read about really exciting advances in technology, at least if you were into life-size holograms and ways to improve the human circulation system.  
  
"Hopefully your idea works Bree, otherwise I may have to see a shrink and have him or her psychobabble the hell out of me," Paris said as she took her book light and bent it so the angle of the light off the page of the magazine would have maximum readability in her eyes.  
  
"Me too, as much as Jess sounds like a dreamy guy, he should remain just that, a **dream** guy." Brianna laughed and took off her glasses, setting them aside on her night table. "Well, I'm out for the night, don't forget to review those notes I gave you about rally scoring and kills tomorrow during lunch, there will be a test on them later tomorrow Par."  
  
"Yes, Miss Daugherty," she deadpanned as she took out her nose ring. "Will it be on a Scantron, multiple choice or an essay?"  
  
"A little from column B, some from C. Couldn't get the Scantron though, sorry."  
  
"Lovely, some good has to come out of this whole volleyball debacle besides the fact Mrs. Broughton wants me to be smoking and drinking like a true reporter by age 21 from being so bitter over my assignments."  
  
"Don't forget the fedora with the press slip in the band."  
  
"Wouldn't want to, it screams journalist all the way to the brim." After some more idle talking and wishing each other goodnight, Paris and Brianna fell sound asleep, both not having any dreams interrupting their beauty rest since they'd mostly talked things out with each other. Rory's reaction to the news of her and Jess meeting still troubled Paris though, and she knew that there was going to be no way to sugarcoat Gilmore's reaction. She put her mind to it and decided that if things were still developing after next Friday between her and Jess that it would be time to let Rory know about them, no matter the response. She treasured Rory's friendship, but Rory's call that she should build her own destiny included her love life, even if that portion included Rory's ex-boyfriend.  
  
_Besides, what girl would want to give this up?_ she thought as she fell asleep, Jess' cologne from the flannel drifting up her nose and inspiring a restful sleep.  


* * *

**Friday Evening  
**   
"OK, #2.5 Dixon Ticonderoga medium weight pencil, sharpened to a fine point?"  
  
"Check."  
  
"Ampad Gregg-ruled reporting notebook, 70 pages?"  
  
"Check."  
  
"Tasco binoculars, in case you and Mai Lin are seated towards the back of the Matadome?"  
  
"Check."  
  
"'UCLA rules, CS-N drools' sweatshirt?"  
  
"Funny Brianna, a barrel of laughs." Paris rolled her eyes as Brianna finished going over her reporting checklist, something that had been Francisca's responsibility since she was a cub reporter at the _Franklin_. The first time she wrote a story about a classroom remodel, she had misquoted Charleston when she tried to remember the story from her memory, and gotten into trouble over it. Since then it was paramount to Paris that she had every tool a reporter would need to get the story, and get it right, thus the purpose of someone else helping with the checklist.  
  
Paris heard a knock on the front door as she put all she needed for her assignment into her messenger bag, still in heavy use even after her Chilton years. She walked over and opened it up, finding Mai Lin on the other side, nervously biting her fingertips and playing with her Canon EOS Rebel camera, trying to get the focus just right.  
  
"Hi, you told me to meet you here Miss Gellar, right?" she asked nervously.  
  
Paris smiled at her. "Yes, and you can call me Paris if you'd like, I'm not Mrs. Broughton and we're outside of school."  
  
"Oh, sorry," the girl apologized, a little hint of foreignness in her accent. Mai Lin stood in the hall, wondering when Paris was going to start guiding her to the Jag.  
  
"Mai Lin, you can come in if you'd like, you're a little early." Paris stretched her arm out as to invite her photographer into the dorm.  
  
"No, it's OK, I don't want to impose--"  
  
"Impose on me and Brianna during _Jeopardy! _time, please, three's a crowd."  
  
"But I want to get there early and take pictures of the Bruins during practice, Mrs. Broughton wants me to prove myself."  
  
"I highly doubt Mrs. Broughton wants us to cover the pre-game warm-ups with the same fervor as the game itself Mai Lin, she wants action pictures, remember?" The Asian girl seemed a little tense and Paris was trying to keep her calm for her first big college newspaper assignment.  
  
"I know, but I don't want to disappoint her or bring shame upon you for photographing badly," she said, fumbling with her fingernails.  
  
"You're going to be fine, I assure you, but if it makes you feel more comfortable we can take the long way up to Northridge so you get some air to settle down." Paris grabbed her car keys off a hanging rack and then secured the buttons on her messenger bag.  
  
"Alright." Mai Lin was a very shy girl, not prone to saying all that much. Like Paris she was an outsider to the world of Los Angeles, but unlike her she had been stuck within the constricting confines of her family where she used to live. She was a star photographer for her high school newspaper, yet had to use a ghost name of Bernadette Smith for her photos to be published, lest her two younger brothers and older sister in school find out she wasn't actually doing chores at her uncle's house, but using him as a cover.  
  
"We'll be back by 10:30 Bree, try to keep your hormones under control," Paris joked as she waved goodbye to her friend and walked out the door.  
  
"You mean my sexual hormones or those that I use to frag Doug back into the stone age?"  
  
"Um, the other one, I think, bye!" Paris and Mai Lin left the dorm together, leaving Brianna to prepare her PC for the LAN party her, Doug, Ronnie and a couple other guys and girls on the third floor were participating in the game using each of their room machines. They wouldn't see each other playing _Battlefield 1942_, so it would be fun trying to capture the flags of both sides and use teamwork to strategize the best plan of attack.  
  
"Bring it on Meriwether and Schultz!" she shouted into her headset, calling for Doug and Ronnie to start the battle and their combined defense of the Axis flag. However, she wasn't expecting another opponent to join in, one which would be much tougher to deal with than Benito Mussolini.  
  
"Hi Brianna, Doug, Ronald, prepare to have those nice little butts of yours get kicked, you're going down!"  
  
"Oh fuck guys, why does she have to represent the Allies?" Brianna frowned as she prepared for Lt. Col. RA 1st Class Piper Shawmut to guide the Allies to victory, and the girl's voice to drive them to poke their eardrums out. Not even Patton would've been able to defeat this terror, and the two boys and girl knew they had a long night ahead of them.  
  
"Piper plays computer games?!" Doug transmitted, almost stunned silent.  
  
"I guess it doesn't take much IQ to walk into Gateway and get yourself a computer," Brianna mused as the three tried to figure out how to ward off this surprise attack at the hands of evil. The old saying 'war is pain' was going to be used a lot that evening.  


* * *

"So, what's your story?" Paris and Mai Lin had found themselves some good net-line seats towards the middle sections of the Matadome, and were trying their best to settle in and not arouse the suspicions of the Northridge fans and students seated around them.  
  
"My story?" Mai Lin responded, confused as she set up her camera's lenses.  
  
"You know, your story. Where you came from, how you were like in high school, your honors. You know, your life story." Paris smiled at the girl, and was making a concerted effort to befriend the shy Asian in her own unique way. Compared to the petite Paris, Mai Lin was almost like a child, at least physically. She barely topped 5' and weighed a relatively light 92 lbs. Where Paris could sit in her seat snugly, the photographer had plenty of wiggling room in her chair. Mai Lin finished taking a couple of test shots, then turned to talk to her co-worker.  
  
"Well, I was born in Laos in 1985, but then only six months into my life my father who had emigrated to the United States sent enough money so that me, my mother and my siblings could take the long bus ride down to Bangkok then the flight from Thailand to America. At first we lived in Portland, and just about every year up until I was nine we made our way east until my family and me settled in a nice Hmong neighborhood in Eau Claire, Wisconsin. From there I went through the ESL program and started learning things like a sponge, I always got the top grade in my family and made them proud."  
  
"Interesting," Paris said. "How did you get into photography?"  
  
Mai Lin recalled the first time she had shown an interest in the subject. "When I was twelve we went down to Disney World and my mother gave me one of those disposable FunSaver cameras so I could take pictures of my two brothers and sister waiting in line for that haunted hotel ride. You know how photogenic ugly tourists are, right?"  
  
"Only Americans can embarrass themselves so badly anywhere they travel," she mused, multi-tasking as she watched the Bruins practice on the court below while listening to Mai Lin.  
  
"I decided that I'm going to take three pictures to satisfy my parents then use the other 21 exposures to find parts of the park which haven't been photographed 27,000 times a day. So I just wandered around taking pictures of flowers in planters, the shoreline of the lake in front of EPCOT that doesn't face that ugly building or a hotel, the back of Cinderella's castle, wherever I could find someplace to take a picture away from my parents. I even had one where I caught the girl in the Donald Duck costume with her head off, I treasure that photo as the best of the trip and the one I always put in the front of my resume."  
  
"In 21 pictures you basically uncovered the seedy side of Lake Buena Vista?"  
  
"I had it published in the school newspaper, thinking my family was going to be proud of my photo essay." Mai Lin frowned as she recalled the dark side of her life. "But they weren't. The Hmong culture is a relatively new way of living to the American experience, and because it came here so abruptly after those that could flee from Laos and Vietnam came here at the end of the Vietnam War, a Hmong girl's role is still confined to being a lover and housewife for her husband. My mother confided in me once that had she come over here earlier, I would've been her last child instead of her third out of five."  
  
"So instead of taking pride, they thought of your photo essay as shameful?"  
  
"I was told I could never photograph again, even though my teacher said I had a natural gift at setting up a shot perfectly. So my younger brothers and older sister became sort of my watchers at school, preventing me from joining any clubs that would clash with the ideal of perfect doting daughter with a future as only being a housewife. Thankfully my sister graduated two years ago and my brothers discovered the opposite sex and was easily distracted, so I was able to join the _Memorial Purple Wings_ school paper as staff photographer without any distraction. I had a ghost byline though so that my parents wouldn't discover that I wasn't at my uncle's after school."  
  
"Well how did you get to UCLA then?" Paris wondered. "Photography doesn't seem to scream UCLA major out at me all that much."  
  
Mai Lin laughed and patted Paris on the back. "I kind of have an interest in life sciences and molecular biology, so the plan for a year and a half is to fake my mother out by making that my major so she won't be suspicious, however what I didn't tell her is that I dropped all but three of the classes once I got here and replaced them with classes driven towards journalism. Next January, I'll slip by that I changed my major to journalism, and she'll think that I'm the next Dear Abby and will bring prestige to the Vang clan. Then she'll find out my true journalistic intentions, and hopefully it'll all go well without a whole 'I have no daughter' scene going on."  
  
"I like you already Mai, I'm not fond of my own mother either." Paris smiled at her and they both stood at attention as the PA announcer informed the crowd they needed to rise for the national anthem. "I think you and me are somehow going to make a great team, I can see it now. Paris and Mai, partners in crime."  
  
"Cool, sounds like a great gig Par." Their eyes drifted towards the Old Glory hanging on the far end of the arena, and both Paris and Mai Lin awaited their trial by fire as the Lady Bruins and Lady Matadors took to the floor.  


* * *

"God, this must be the 20th time me and you have had to respawn tonight Doug," Brianna grumbled as once again Piper and her forces cornered their Axis team and blew the heck out of the soldiers. There was no way to salvage the night for them, and they hoped to come out of _Battlefield 1942 _with at least a shred of dignity intact.  
  
"I'm going to continue, continue, continue to beat you until you cry uncle!" Piper piped in, letting her charges knew that she meant business in the virtual and real arenas. Piper had lured them to flag points, then abandoned them for a bit to try to lure the Axis soldiers into a false sense of security. Brianna's character would take the flag, while Doug acted as a human shield and Ron played lookout. It would be no more than a minute though until they found their unit surrounded by the Allies, and Piper's cronies shooting the three characters until they died. This circle of futility would continue unabated for two hours, until Brianna finally had enough. She struck her F10 key hard in frustration, threw her headset onto the desk, and exited back onto her desktop abruptly, leaving Doug and Ronnie all alone in the game.  
  
Two minutes later, Brianna heard a hard rap on her door, and she got up to investigate.  
  
"Who's there?" She got up and opened the door, discovering a fuming Doug behind it. His eyes were red and seemed almost glassy, and he was holding his hand in pain from some temporary carpal tunnel syndrome that Piper had doled out towards him the last couple hours in the virtual world.  
  
"Hey," he mumbled, casting his eyes towards the floor trying to avoid her questioning gaze.  
  
"Doug, are you OK?" Brianna asked, her eyes wide with concern. She invited him into the dorm and had him sit on the couch while she got some ice out from the freezer shelf of the mini-fridge. As she chipped the tray apart with a fork and shoveled the cubes into a zipper bag, she wished that the night could've gone a lot better than it had. She was thankful for the private messaging feature the game had so she could talk to only Doug between games, but it just wasn't the same as him being in the room with him. She would try to talk to him about other things besides game strategies, but would be quickly interrupted when Doug would receive a message from Ronnie about something else.   
  
The worse thing was she felt like a third wheel all night trying to help them out, and was very pissed when Ronnie had invited Doug into Piper's LAN party, even after Doug had told him he was spending the night playing games on a console with Brianna. Doug had made a valiant effort to try to get out of it, but he had to give in to Ronnie after a while, lest his friend find out he held more than friendly feelings for the feisty brunette.  
  
"I think so. I'm sorry Bree, I didn't know that Ron was going to invite Piper and her cronies into the gaming session, he assured me that it was just going to be me, you and him!" Doug said, desperate to stay in Brianna's good graces. "If it would've been up to me he would've been at an off-campus party, but when I told him he was like 'Dude we have to get her in on a gaming session, she'd kick ass.'"  
  
She sat down next to him, handing Doug the ice pack and forcing him to make eye contact with her. "Look, it's fine Doug, I had a fun time, a ball was had by all and such." Her tone betrayed her mood though, and to Doug it sounded like she wasn't having a fun time after they learned Piper was in the game, because he was feeling the same way all the way through the gaming session.  
  
"You're not fine, you look like you're about to mope over a half-pint of cookie dough," he told her as he wrapped a towel around the ice pack. "Ronnie started to curse me out when you F10'ed it out of the game for you not being into it, and it was like what else was I supposed to do? This was supposed to be our night and he went and ruined it. God that guy can be frustrating sometimes, you know?" He formed his hands into a hand-wringing gesture, and for the first time that night Brianna cracked a smile.  
  
"I think he's just cranky because he hasn't gotten any or had the opportunity to have you come with," Brianna mused. "He probably felt like you weren't giving him enough friendish time lately because you've been buried in schoolwork and trying to mend the wounds between you and Paris."  
  
_More like I've been buried in thoughts of you Daugherty_, he thought as he pressed the ice close to his hand. It hurt a little, but the numbing from the compress was starting the cool the heat down. He coughed and thought about his next move. He was there all alone with Brianna, with no indication Paris was about to walk in on them and ruin the moment.  
  
"I knew it was a bad idea for Ronnie to force you into a LAN party, I'm sorry." Doug was truly apologetic, and rubbed his hand on Brianna's thigh in an attempt to comfort her. She smiled back and started to come out of her full-blown mope, reduced to just a pout.  
  
"I think that calls for a make-up game of _Tekken 4_ and you buying me a pizza, doesn't it?" She asked with a smirk.  
  
Doug returned the look, smiling evilly. "As long as the pizza has anchovies and jalapenos on it."  
  
"Doug, you get that and you're going back to San Diego in a coffin," Brianna joked, slugging him lightly on his arm. "Sausage and mushroom fine?"  
  
"Sausage and mushroom," he agreed. He got up and went over to the phone, and picking it up with his free hand, dialing the number for Giorgio's Pizza in the LaBrea section of LA. He threw the icepack in the sink, his hand now numb and pain-free. "You want garlic bread with it?"  
  
"Actually if they have breadsticks and spaghetti sauce I'd prefer that," she answered, as a troubling image came to her mind just then of Doug dipping a breadstick into her sauce, but more in the euphemistic inappropriate manner than the way she usually thought of the food items. _Don't even start with me conscience or I'll whip your ass into next Tuesday. It was meant as innocent dammit!_ she thought as she watched Doug take the order, and noticed his defined biceps contracting back and forth as he adjusted the angle of the phone against his ear. She tried to avert her eyes but found herself unsuccessful despite herself. Brianna was now cursing herself that she didn't take the opportunity of Paris picking up supplies from the _Bruin _offices earlier in the afternoon to release any sexual tension she might have had around Doug.  
  
She ran a finger against the rim of her ear in order to put a few stray strands of her hair back in place, and another impure thought of Doug doing that for her flashed through her mind. She squinted her eyes, trying to will the betraying images from the recesses of her mind. _I'm above crushing, I don't want Doug!_ she cried out in her inner monologue, but knowing that it was too late to uninvite Doug from playing video games with her. Brianna's concentration was broken as Doug called for her attention.  
  
"About a half hour, $13.67," Doug told her, relaying the time and cost of the pizza order. "I'll get the game and be right back Bree, I hope you can beat me."  
  
"Oh, its on Doug, it's on." She had her game face on as she started to unwrap the PS2's controllers. "You won't be able to walk upright when I'm finished with you."  
  
It took awhile, but Doug's libido finally increased from Brianna's statement. "Err, I hope that's just a threat."  
  
Brianna smiled at him, and with just the slightest hint of lust in her voice, responded. "No Doug, it's a promise." _Stop it, stop it!_ Her conscience warned, but the inner pervert in her wasn't about to stop anytime soon. Doug left the room with a look as if he really needed to get in his room and take care of something besides retrieving the video game. Brianna reclined in the futon and huffed a breath of relief that Doug was out of the room.  
  
"It's going to be a long night," she told herself. "Better just grin and bear it." She got up and decided to change out of her regular clothes and into her pajamas. Unlike Paris though, she was going to make sure the emphasis on her body around Doug was muted, which meant she was wearing the biggest t-shirt and baggiest sweatpants she could scrounge up.  
  
She had to, due to the ill-timed fact her entire undergarment collection was on spin cycle in the community laundry room due to her on-off laundry schedule. The last thing she needed was for Doug to notice not only she was pulling a Sharon Stone beneath her PJs, but that her girls were roaming free beneath her shirt.  
  
_Next time I keep an emergency bag of lingerie around for occasions like this_, she thought as she gathered up her sleepwear and walked into the bathroom to change.  


* * *

**2½ hours later...  
**   
"Hey," Mai Lin wondered, prodding Paris with her finger as she merged her car onto the 405. "You look down Paris, what's the matter?" Despite the fact that UCLA had won the volleyball match against Cal State-Northridge in straight sets as Mrs. Broughton predicted, Paris had kept thinking about Jess during rotation times and about how lonely he must feel in Venice right about then, sitting in his house with just his father, the two eating their dinner alone and Jess moping and wallowing with a copy of _Lord of the Files_ in his possession. Even though there was no ill will between them, Paris felt like she had let her Rebel Boy down. The one time he gets the wherewithal to just about ask a girl out without the threat of a pummeling from an ex, and she had to spurn him. However, she couldn't show her true emotions off to anyone she knew. _Gellars don't feel pain dear_, Sharon Gellar's declaration said in her mind, _they let it roll off and move on_. Still, Paris wasn't feeling like her usual ferocious journalistic self that evening, and felt plenty of pain despite her mother's advice.  
  
After the game her and Mai Lin headed down from the bleachers towards the floor of the Matadome, where the Lady Bruins were celebrating their easy victory. Paris interviewed the team captain and the player who scored the most points and asked the usual hard questions about their strategies and athletic regimens, easily getting the quotables that seemed to be the status quo of a sports story that could be highlighted in the middle of a column. She went over her notes with an assistant coach to make sure that she scored the match well so the box score wasn't erroneous. The coach nodded and told her she did a wonderful job, and Mai Lin ended up with some great shots of the action during the game and the aftermath in the locker room. Mai Lin knew that only two pictures would run in the sports section, but it wouldn't hurt to give those shots Diane didn't want to the athletic department for use on their website. She made a deal with the team's manager to burn all the shots she took to CD-R so that they could pick and choose, her fingers were crossed that when her over 120 shots were developed they'd turn out excellent.  
  
Mai Lin was a little worried about Paris though. The blonde was talkative and helpful at first when the match had started, but once the second set began around 8:15 she started to become withdrawn and mumbled only the occasional 'OK' or 'mm-hmm' when she'd try to ask Paris a question. And even though the game was totally one-sided with the Matadors sweeping through their roster in a desperate bid to win a set, there was still some excitement to be had during the match with one of the Lady Bruins having some kind of 10 kills per game streak she was trying to extend. Paris wasn't mustering up any of the enthusiasm for writing the story she had as they drove into Northridge since then, and she was kind of worried.  
  
"I'm fine Mai, it's nothing." Paris smiled at her partner-in-crime to try to convince Mai Lin she was fine, but somehow the Laotian knew that look. It was on her sister's face whenever she had a date with a white boy, but couldn't go through with it due to Mr. And Mrs. Vang's conservative values. The Vang children were expected to marry their own kind, no matter what kind of connection they might have with any other boy or girl in Eau Claire not of the Hmong persuasion.  
  
"Come on Paris, there's something wrong with you, like you really didn't want to do this story."  
  
"Mm-hmm, because volleyball's still such a new game to me. Oh geez, that guy's going at least 80, can he do that?" she observed as a Porsche Boxter sped down the left carpool lane to try and merge onto the eastbound Ventura from the 405.  
  
"That wasn't what I was thinking. You look troubled tonight, like you left someone in the lurch. Someone like a boy, that you wanted to be somewhere else. I'm not sure if I'm right or not, but I just wanted to fathom a guess at the reason for your mood."  
  
"You're thinking wrong Mai, I'm just fine," Paris said, trying to mask a distracting thought of her and Jess watching a movie, his arm over her shoulder as they sat on him couch. "We have a great story and I'm just thinking of what details I can use in order to draw the reader in, there's so many angles I can use to write it."  
  
"You must share the same train of thought that my best friend Andrea is on sometimes."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Using big words and long-winded explanations to avoid the subject at hand as much as possible. You can use your bookishness all you want to avoid the topic Paris, but I'm eventually going to find out." She played with the toggle for the power seats as Paris huffed.  
  
"I thought I was supposed to be the strong one in all of this." Paris took a glance in her rear-view mirror to see if any cars were behind. "I just don't get it though, why do girls who don't seem to know all that much about love give advice better than the Carrie Bradshaw clones I had for friends back in Hartford? I've had more insight about the ways of love talking to Brianna over the last few weeks than I did in six years with Louise. Can I ask if you've had a boyfriend Mai?"  
  
"Once for two months, but that was set up by my mother and closely chaperoned. If I was a normal kid the boy wouldn't have gotten the time of day with me, we had all the chemistry of wood being glued to ice. But now tell me about your guy, I'm curious." She had a cute bucktoothed smile and pleady eyes. "Please?"  
  
Paris could never resist 'that look' when it came to spilling something, because it was the same way Madeline would try to wear her down and get details from her back in the days of her crush on Tristan. And she'd never been successful in resisting. She sighed and merged the car into a reversible express lane on the freeway which had little traffic going back into the city.  
  
"Fine Mai, I'll tell you. But please, the only other person who knows about this is my roommate. If you tell Mrs. Broughton that I wasn't into the match because of this, I'll pull a Christian Slater and rip the film out of your camera."  
  
"I'd love to see you try, this is a digital," Mai Lyn said, laughing.  
  
"I'll find a way," Paris held out her index finger and pointed at Mai Lin, smiling as she watched the traffic pass her by. "OK, if it wasn't for having to go out to Northridge tonight for the paper, I'd be down in Venice right now with a guy from Connecticut named Jess I'm starting to befriend again, watching _It Happened One Night _as we bantered on through it about the social and moral implications of Clark Gable going without an undershirt and exposing his chest, a first in film."  
  
"Oooh, sounds juicy," Mai Lin gushed. "So he's an old boyfriend?"  
  
"No!" Paris denied it loudly and explicitly. "He was a troublemaker from Brooklyn who came to the town where my friend and former classmate Rory lived. Sparks flew between them, they were together for about seven months, then he moved out here to reunite with the father that left him behind when he was really young. I harbored an unsaid crush which I couldn't mention since I was going out with a guy I met, Jamie, during a conference in Washington last summer and who I kept trying to convince myself that I loved because he said he loved me."  
  
"Did you?"  
  
"I did, at first," she admitted. "I mean he was such a charmer and had such a nice face and dark caring eyes, and I could hold a debate with him about some political topic all through a dinner. I could even see my boring political potboiler films in the theater with him without having to be afraid that he'd be bored to death with them or use the content as an excuse to slide a hand behind my shirt and undress me from beneath."  
  
"What happened that you decided to break it off with him?"  
  
"One phrase, three words; Sex changes everything. Do I even have to say anymore Mai?"  
  
"Not really, no." Mai Lin laughed and curled up in her seat. "So this Jess boy, what is he like? Is he handsome, sexy, someone you could see as your soulmate?"  
  
"All of those and more," she told Mai Lin, sighing in contentment as she recalled the image of her and Jess at the chuppa. "He also has this rebellious and dangerous thing going that draws me to him so much, if I were back in Hartford my mother would vehemently prevent me from dating him just on that alone. The way he carries himself, his attitude and the way he talks, damn." She stretched out the last word. "He's a heavy recreational reader like I am, so I'm sure he could take something mundane like the Polk city directory and read it aloud as if it was a dog-eared copy of _Pride and Prejudice_, he can make anything sound so good. I mean he was reading _On the Road_, a book I was trained by my teachers and my mother to hate since it was 'new reading'. But in his hands, with his voice conveying everything, I was taken into that world so effortlessly, and I loved it, the way he read and drove my imagination towards those thoughts." Paris sighed as she felt a recalling smile inch onto her lips. She would've said more to Mai Lin, but if she did she might end up in an accident due to Jess filling her thoughts.  
  
"You must really love him Paris," Mai Lin deduced. "Do you have any competition with any other girl to get him though?"  
  
Reality came crashing into the path of Paris' freeway of love, and she tried to take back her platitudes for Jess. "That's the problem Mai, I can't have him. He's Rory's ex-boyfriend, and if I decided to go out with him I'd basically be telling her with that move 'Thanks for letting me be your friend, but since your ex is closer to me I think I'll swipe in and take him so it looks like I'm trying to screw you over again like I did the first year and a half you went to school with me.' Let's just say I was playing Big Girl on Campus with her and shutting out her friendship at first until I relented later, it's an uneasy friendship. No matter what I think of Jess, Rory comes first--" She seemed to be starting on a tangent, and Mai Lin had to stop the academic beauty from winding herself into a tizzy before it was too late.  
  
"Paris, you come first." Strangely, Mai Lin had somehow morphed her voice to resemble that of the ever-strict Mrs. Kim, which had always demanded authority and obedience. Even though Paris had only heard Mrs. Kim talk once, when she was using her as a source for her Stars Hollow underground story, the telltale and strict tone froze her solid, in a way that not even her own mother's strictest tone could never do to her. _They must have a special school where they teach these girls how to make their voices scare the living shit out of someone else_, she thought to herself.  
  
"But Mai, I can't, I--" Paris tried to explain herself out of the situation, but her smaller compatriot wasn't going to let her.  
  
"Paris, you have to go for it, no matter what it does to your friendship with Rory. I had so many boys in Eau Claire who wanted me for who I was, but I had to settle for whom my family wanted me to date. You know how horrible it feels to have a boy on your arm and asking timidly for permission to kiss you when the point guard for the basketball team is giving you loving eyes, but can't do anything with those feelings because you're stuck in some lame tradition of dating a dull Hmong boy who doesn't want to drag you out of the batter's box at all? I know how it feels, and it sucks!"  
  
She looked out the window towards the San Fernando Valley under the first quarter phase moonlight, as she recounted her luck with men, or lack thereof back in western Wisconsin. "I'd see all these other girls in my classes wearing belly shirts, looking downright alluring with layers of makeup and the tightest jeans money could buy, and there was little virgin me, sitting right in the middle in a simple sundress that wasn't flattering, wearing absolutely no makeup at all and open-toed sandals from Payless. Yet I got as much sexual attention as all those girls from the guys in my class, including invitations to go out with them! But I couldn't do anything to respond to them at all, nothing! At least one of my relatives was in every one of my classes, along with my 'boyfriend' in a few, so there was no way to sneak off to a cloakroom or closet and let them know I shared an interest in them."  
  
"You had the set-up suitors too?" Paris said, nodding and understanding where Mai Lin was coming from. "In my rung of society it was just to maintain my wealth though. If it wasn't for me being so stubborn and headstrong I might be a trophy wife as we speak to one of the young hunks of central Connecticut. Thank God I didn't score points with Hartford society when I ditched my debutante ball for an evening with my nanny and her kids among the shelves of the New York Public Library, my mother wouldn't speak to me until a month after the event, but it was all worth it in order to ditch a lousy event involving fan dances and ten other girls, each more brainless than the last."  
  
"Sounds like me during Hmong New Year when my brother tries to set me up with a very boring guy," Mai Lin commented as she laughed, feeling comfortable enough around Paris to come out of the shell she usually confined herself to. "Are you scared that he might not show an interest in you?"  
  
"A little, but it isn't a large fear since he seems to be returning fire with sexual-tinged comebacks when we get into a discussion or I silence him for some reason or another. I just don't feel I have enough to offer though, I was the wallflower of my peer group, and to have Jess comment about the way I look in my new wardrobe and about how attractive I am, it's disconcerting that some punk kid from Brooklyn feels this way about me, but not one guy in the twelve years I attended Chilton had given me even the slightest interest." She took a look at the dash clock, reading 10:30, and sighed. "God, sometimes I feel like I'm taking all my romantic cues from Ally McBeal, I'm as insecure about my love life as she was."  
  
"Well as long as you don't hallucinate a dancing baby or do the deed in a car wash, you should be fine Paris. Jess sounds like a great guy behind that tough and bookish façade." Mai Lin smiled at her as Paris laughed, then read through Paris' notes in order to try to setup her photographic storyline before she and Paris got back onto campus.   
  
Paris couldn't say all that much to Mai Lin anymore, especially when the image of her and Jess reenacting the same car wash scene that opened _Ally McBeal_'s fourth season flashed through her mind and sent arousal all throughout her body. _So much for that show being just a distraction from schoolwork, _she thought to herself as she tried to keep her concentration on the road and away from Mai Lin bopping carelessly along to a Phil Collins song playing on Lite FM.  


* * *

Brianna and Doug settled onto the futon after talking for awhile about themselves without trying to reveal a lot about each other. Brianna tried to keep herself focused on her home and school life back in Antioch, switching the track once she got near the beginning of 2000 and the teen tournament, along with everything about Leonard. She listened intently to Doug describe his life back in San Diego County, hopeful she'd hear something she'd like.  
  
The first thing she was glad not to hear was that he was a brainless San Diegan high school jock who got into UCLA on something as frivolous as a track and field scholarship. He wasn't far from his home in Coronado north of San Diego, yet was feeling homesick for the home cooking of his mother, who had raised him alone as a single mother after his father passed away from a scuba diving-induced blood clot when he was around five, along with his nine year-old kid sister Ellen, who just about looked up to her brother as her father figure. When he wasn't playing video games in his room or studying his schoolwork, Doug was active in his student government and out and about in the community, ready to lend a helping hand to any charity organization which desired his services. As for her question about why he was acting like such a jerk the first week and a half before they decided to head down the friends path, Doug clearly explained that he thought that was the way he was supposed to behave at college, but Paris' little reality checks had shaken that behavior right out of him.  
  
As they played the video game with each other, a different competition was secretly being played by the girl and the boy throughout the night, that of a contest to see who could flirt the best and not have the other catch on. It started with innocent glances when the other was distracted, with Doug imagining what it would feel like to run his fingers through Brianna's charcoal mane, as Brianna considered the consequences of 'accidentally' running her hand against Doug's biceps for longer than what a brush-up against someone would be considered accidental.  
  
The night went on, along with the gaming, both of them becoming zombies to the boob tube as the polygons and many colors on-screen became more furious as the two continued their fighting in the video game world. There they were complete enemies, doling out various amounts of pain in order to make the other annoyed and hitting all the button combinations possible in order to kick their competitor's ass back into the stone age. Doug and Brianna mentally were completely focused on the game.  
  
However their physical and emotional selves were completely detached from the violence created by the Namco Corporation. Sometime around 9:30 and 9:45, Brianna had shifted from her far right position on the futon couch and her rear was scooching closer and closer to where Doug was sitting. She wasn't aware of her conscience giving her the usual 'shields up' command she heard spinning through her brain whenever she had gotten nine inches into the space around a man she showed interest in since the whole messy incident in Philadelphia. She didn't know what was causing it, but it might have had something to do with Doug's mixed bouquet of a discount imitation fragrance she couldn't quite place her nose on and Lava soap intoxicating the sensual stimuli within her nose. Her nerves, frazzled from her itchy gaming muscle and split-second reactions to the action on the screen, didn't even register that around 9:47pm her arm was rubbing comfortably against Doug's side, and that Doug was just as clueless about the subtle move. They talked trash to each other about who was about to get their hides beaten not even knowing that they were so close that throwing their controllers towards the TV and kissing each other senseless might be the next obvious move if someone was about to walk in.  
  
During a spare moment during a game loading time, Doug drew his glance downwards towards his controller, but suddenly found it disrupted by the closeness of Brianna to him. Without control, he found his gaze moving towards her bust, which in a perfect and non-sexual world would've been completely and utterly without definition from the teal 2X San Jose Sharks t-shirt she was wearing in a very desperate attempt to cry out "I'm not sexy, don't look at me that way."  
  
Just like Paris' wardrobe choice of a week earlier, Brianna's strategy failed miserably. She had forgotten one of the things she had learned in her LAN parties and partaking in Halo matches on X-Box Live. When she was really worked up and really into the game, her nipples would harden through the ensuing adrenaline rush, and if she was at an internet café, she'd have to wear a sports bra with a layer of padding beneath for the sole reason of making sure her breasts didn't become weapons of mass destruction to the competitors surrounding her and end up as a distraction to those boys.  
  
Combine the factor of competition with the arousal of being so near to a man she was having a budding crush on, and the two factors made sure that even through the deep folds of her unflattering t-shirt, Brianna's intentions for wanting Doug were quite clear, two times over, even if she wasn't aware of the fact. Even with a small two-second glance at her aroused breasts beneath the shirt, Doug was able to memorize the image, and spent the rest of the night with his control pad far away from his lap so that the stimuli from the vibration pads would go to his hands, and his hands only.  
  
Unaware of their closeness, they kept both their focuses on the game, neither the wiser. There was the occasional brush of thighs and hands between Brianna and Doug when they blew on their hands to cool their hands off, but otherwise there were no signs that their silent flirting was going to be taken out of the separate arenas of their minds and combined in one big Staples Center-sized tease fest. Brianna continued to deny herself the pleasure of being next to Doug, and planned to do nothing with her positioning at all, despite the intoxication of being so near to him.  
  
However, around ten o'clock, the silence of the room with the exception of the game's sound effects started driving Brianna stir-crazy, and her bladder was filling up with the contents of two cans of 7Up she'd drank during the LAN party. She hit the pause button and got up from her seat, aware of her closeness to Doug. She cursed silently her earlier thirst for ruining the closeness of the moment.  
  
"Er, I have to go...you know," she said, a violent purple blush creeping up her cheeks. "I'll be back in a bit."  
  
"OK," he said, relaxing and taking the sports section from Paris' copy of the _Times_ out to read. "By the way, Bree?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You look very nice tonight." He spoke nervously, not wanting to highlight the fact he knew she wasn't wearing a bra. "I don't know how you do it, but whatever you wear makes you look very alluring, and even in something as uh, casual as that, you make it look pretty great."  
  
She smiled and tried to play a homely card. "These old rags, I just got them out of my drawer since I don't have much else to wear. Most of my...stuff is downstairs in the dryer so I didn't have much of a pajama choice this evening." _Phew, that was close,_ she thought, relieved she hadn't said that all her underwear was downstairs.  
  
"Really? So you don't wear just sweats to bed?" His voiced lowered just a hint, not too much to appraise Brianna to the fact he was trying to flirt with her.  
  
"I have nightgowns, yeah. But I don't wear them often anymore cause I share a room and what I used to wear when I had my own bedroom would probably make Paris put on her sleep mask earlier than bedtime, so going with the jerseys and stirrup pants is more often than not a safer bet."  
  
"Paris isn't here tonight, why don't you wear one?" he asked, unaware of exactly what Brianna was describing when it came to her sleepwear choices.  
  
"Doug," she said to him, her flirtish tone in full force. "I said I can't wear them in front of a girl. If the other person is a man, I'm sure that he wouldn't mind." She uttered the last two words in a hushed tone, the words being formed by only a whisper. "He _really_ wouldn't mind, if you figure out my hint." Brianna turned around and walked to the bathroom, leaving her co-gamer to gape at her, and his imagination to muster up images of Brianna in really thin and short-cut sleepwear.  
  
_Damn it, quit thinking about her that way. She's only talking that way to speak at your level Merriwether, she's showing no interest at all_, he tried to convince himself. He lay back on the couch and read the paper, trying to will the images filling up out of his mind.  
  
After finishing and washing her hands, Brianna sat down on the ledge of the vanity, trying to sort out the exact reason she was starting to flirt with Doug when she felt she wasn't ready to fall into a relationship again. She took a look over herself in the mirror, mumbling to herself about what she felt were imperfections that Doug should've been cutting down left and right.  
  
"God, the boy should be making fun of my nose." She always thought her nose was her worse feature because it didn't fill out her face like her mother's, she had inherited her hair color, nose, lips and her free earlobe from her father's side of the family, while her eye color and chin formation were from the maternal side of the coin. Her reading glasses had to be custom made because her temples were so far from the nose rests, and she could never copy her roommate and get it pierced since the pole of the earring would block most of her nostril. She wrinkled it as she lifted her t-shirt up to just above her midriff, her navel piercing exposed. Brianna had a small frame, thus she received nicknames like 'shrimp', 'small fry' and 'tiny B' from her friends and family back in Antioch, she was at least six inches below the crown of Doug's head, and he would have to bend down to kiss her rather uncomfortably.  
  
"I need to put on some more weight, all this fast food doesn't seem to help me at all," she told herself rubbing her tummy, wishing she could fill out her figure a little more and stop being a slim upside-down pear shaped girl. She had plenty on top along her bust, but not nearly enough in her midsection to grab onto in the love handles. She would give anything to have a nice full figure, but had figured long ago she was cursed with this body she had, she had to grin and bear it. Brianna was just glad that Doug hadn't noticed anything odd happening with herself that night.  
  
That is, until she ran the back of her hand against one of her breasts, and felt the pebble-hard peak of a nipple along the cotton of her shirt. She gasped, and reeled it back in shock.  
  
"Shit, how the fuck could I forget that!! Stupid, stupid Brianna," she cursed to herself as she tried to dig around in her mind for arousal killer, which involved her older relatives kissing the it guys of the moment. _Aunt Cara making out with Colin Farrell should make feel as sexual as a nun in a convent staring at an old priest in the buff_, she told herself as she wished the image further and further. Within a period of 75 seconds, Brianna's breasts were back to normal and desensitized, her plan had surprisingly worked well. Too bad it took an image which was sure to haunt her nightmares in slumber that evening to ruin it.  
  
"Hey Bree," Doug asked through the door. Startled from her reverie, she almost fell of the vanity and onto the tile floor below her. Her hand grasped the towel rack on the door just in time and she steadied herself onto her two feet.  
  
"Yes Doug?" Her face was flustered, and she sighed, happy that the wooden door was hiding the look of shock evident on her face.  
  
"You've been in there about five minutes, you OK?" He leaned back against a drawer along the wall, doing his best to keep the reasons for Brianna's long bathroom trip innocuous.  
  
" I'm fine, just feeling a little hot." She turned on the cold tap and filled the bottom of the vanity bowl with cold water, splashing it onto her face to cool herself off. Despite the desexualized images she forced, Brianna's body temperature was betraying her.  
  
"Alright, I'm going to start disconnecting the console from the TV, do you and Paris need it any longer?" He munched on a piece of cheesy bread as Brianna came out of the bathroom, her face still wet in order to use the air conditioning to cool herself off.  
  
"No, but I really have to figure out how to get my own console here, the gaming bug has bit me again and it hurts like heck." She bent down and reached into the mini-fridge to take out another can of 7Up. "Ahh, that feels a little better," she sighed as her thumb landed on the cool aluminum. "Any boy who gives me a nice and sore gaming thumb definitely deserves the time of day from me."  
  
"You're a much better opponent than Ronnie," Doug complimented her as they made their way back to the couch. "He's the sorest loser you can ever find, I've replaced more controllers because he'd throw them in frustration after he lost. And when he played football, get your earplugs out. He hasn't figured out quite yet that shouting at the screen and mashing all the buttons in will not reverse a referee's call no matter what."  
  
"Hey, I do that." she admitted.  
  
"You do? You were silent tonight all through the game."  
  
"Yeah, so?" Brianna brought her defenses up to avoid Doug's queries.  
  
"All I heard from you is the occasional grunt and maybe some trash talking at the beginning, but nothing after that. You had a five match streak going and didn't make a wisecrack about putting me in my place." His reasoning was an attempt to bring down the barriers Brianna was putting in front of herself in order to keep Doug at bay.  
  
"It's a quiet night without Paris," she said, fibbing as she tried to avoid Doug's persistence. "It's the first night I haven't seen her in the dorms 'till late, and even though she's a wonderful roommate and I wouldn't give her up at all, I'm just glad she isn't here tonight. I needed a night alone--"  
  
Doug cut her off harshly. "Brianna, you're not alone tonight, stop lying. What's wrong, you were Miss Conversation a couple days ago, and now you're all clammed up, this has nothing to do with Eiffel Girl, does it?"  
  
She stomped over to the couch and sat down with a huff, Doug following her as their first argument started. "Don't talk about Paris like that, she told you she doesn't want you to use that nickname!"  
  
"Don't avoid the question Bree!"  
  
"I'm not avoiding anything." She raised her voice up at him, taking on an authoritative tone. "Look, I just have nothing to say to you, that's all. What am I going to ask you, 'Gee golly Doug, how about those Chargers, think Drew Brees is going to get them to the playoffs this year?'"  
  
"Damn it Daugherty, don't avoid the question, what's with you tonight?" He wrung his hands together and sat down on Paris' bed.  
  
"You want to know what's the matter? Your friend invited me to play a game I didn't want to play tonight, and I so wanted to turn down his invitation because I don't like him, however because you were involved I played anyway, all two stupid hours of it when all I wanted from this night was some good company and conversation while my new friend was gone. Instead I was stuck to my PC bailing Ronnie's ass out because he knows jack shit about combat strategy when I could've had you sitting in here and we'd be getting to know each other more over pizza or fried chicken." Her emotions starting to come out, her voice wavered and her tear ducts were on the edge of being stirred into action. "My idea of a fun night out usually doesn't involve a group of people, I'm very introverted and it always took a lot for me to go beyond the comfort zone of Antioch and into Oakland or San Francisco with my friends for a night out--" She lost her place with her point and backtracked away, laying on the couch.  
  
"I understand that, believe me." Doug looked down at his lap, trying to avoid eye contact with Brianna. "I didn't want to play with Ronnie tonight either, but after a minute of trying to avoid the reason, he...he told me he knew about me and you last Friday night and that he saw you walking out of my room. Then he said if I didn't play the game with him and invite you in, he'd spread a rumor that we were together through the building, starting with Piper and making his way down the chain." His formed his hands into fists and gritted his teeth, mad that his best friend was trying to keep his love life hostage.  
  
Brianna's eyes were wide in shock. Not only had he eavesdropped on her own muttering that night, but he was spying on her and Doug while she was giving him the doughnut money. _That son of a bitch!_ Brianna was downright livid, and though her anger for Doug had totally cooled down and her longing returned, she was furious at Ronnie for his attempt at blackmail. She fisted material along the side of her shirt and scrunched her eyebrows, trying to keep the building anger controlled. Remembering the treatment the snotty dark blonde had given her and Paris wasn't all that much to ire her up. But once he got Doug involved with his plans, Brianna was pissed beyond belief.  
  
Calmly, she slipped her Isotoners on and with Doug following her every step, threw on her bathrobe. _No way that jerk's going to get a free show when I'm angry_, she thought as she tied it on around her waist as tight as possible.  
  
"Bree, where are you going?" Doug asked, if only to confirm the inevitable. He certainly wasn't going to stop this woman scorned since he still had a lot of living to do. He also felt that it was time for Ronnie to get a taste of the medicine Paris had not-so-nicely dealt to him a couple weeks earlier.  
  
"Oh, I'm just going to kick Ronnie's ass, you don't mind right?" Her voice had taken on an authoritative tone, with her eyes taking on a darker green shade.  
  
He nodded mutely, allowing Brianna to go forward with her wishes. She stormed out of the dorm, nearly slamming the door right into Doug's nose. He was thankful for the pneumatic closing device on top of the door that slowed down the door before it hit him.  
  
He had always been the one who dished out punishment for his friend whenever he was lame-brained, so Doug was going to enjoy seeing a female dole out the pain for once.  
  
Not two minutes later, Brianna was in front of 318, rapping on the door hard with Doug right behind her, just in case she decided fists would work better than words and she wanted to bead Ronnie to a bloody pulp. Sure he was mad at him, but not mad enough to have someone else cause him physical pain.  
  
In the room, Ronnie was laying on his bed snoozing, a copy of _Maxim_ open in his face, some hot movie starlet wearing a scant bikini pictured in minute thirteen of her fame and being used for sexual fantasy material. He barely could hear Brianna's knocking over the blare of KROQ, and somehow made it out between the strains of Linkin Park blasting from his stereo.  
  
"Hold on, keep your pants on!" he shouted as he threw on some jeans out of his dirty clothes pile. The knocking continued despite the answer. "I'm coming!" He narrowly avoided tripping over a hamper and one of Jake's free weights in the path to the door. Still tired and dazed he opened the door, not knowing whether to expect an accidental pizza delivery, booty call or an invitation to an off-campus party.  
  
Instead he got a nice big peek at anger flaring within Brianna's eyes, her teeth bared out from beneath her puckered mouth.  
  
"Hey Brianna, what's up--" Before he could say anything else, the shorter girl interrupted him.  
  
"You, outside now!" Brianna brought her hand up and yanked him by the shirt out into the hallway, shocking the boy with her actions.  
  
"Geeze, what the fuck Daugherty!" he gasped out as his back hit the wall.  
  
"What the fuck indeed Ronnie!" she hissed out, gripping his side tightly in her hand. "Which is exactly what Doug and I are **not** doing, we aren't together! Last Friday we just talked, that's it, I didn't sleep with Doug since I was in his room a grand total of five minutes! How dare you take something as innocent as that and turn it into blackmail material so I was forced to play a game with you."  
  
"It's all your fault that I had to miss out on grade A DeNeves ass!" Ronnie accused. "They wanted Doug at that party and without him I couldn't get any action!" He looked towards his buddy, smiling and watching the scene transpire. "C'mon Dougie, get her off me, I didn't mean anything by it!"  
  
All he got in turn was a shake of Doug's head and a little laugh. "Dude you're on your own, I really didn't want to play with Piper and her cronies myself. And believe me if you ask me to do this again, the answer will be no. I had everything planned out for a night of gaming with Bree and I ended up with some truncated fun, I could've used that two hours to get to know her more."  
  
"Hey, you're the one who started the 'I hate Paris' campaign when she first walked into the dorm!"  
  
"That's before I knew she was a blue-blood with venom in her words, she has sharper horns than the bulls of Pamplona!"  
  
"And before you knew her roommate was the finest piece of ass east of Oakland--" his words were cut off by Brianna tightening her grip on Ronnie's side and bashing him against the wall.  
  
"I'm right here Ronnie!" Brianna growled out the words and lowered her eyelashes. "Now I think you owe Doug and I an apology for jumping to conclusions and for your attitude towards women. So Doug didn't want to go to a party with you and have a one night stand, big deal. That doesn't mean you take the first girl you see with him at school and fabricate some story about them being lovers just because you didn't get to go to a lame beer bash."  
  
"I'll never apologize to you braniac!" he sneered out, keeping his composure despite Brianna lining up her knee to his midsection. Her eyes burned with anger and she was doing her damndest to be provoked by Ronnie.  
  
"You apologize to Brianna right now or I'm pulling out the connection and canceling the magazine subscriptions." Ronnie turned to see Doug pointing up towards the ceiling between 318 and 319, where false tiles obscured the fact Ronnie was on Doug's cable connection, and his roommate's only link to the finest soft-core pornography Cinemax and Playboy could offer would be cut without a second thought by his best friend.  
  
But to lose his shared subscriptions to those lad magazines, _Playboy_ and _Perfect Ten_? That would be too much to bear, how else would him and Jake subsist in the world without photographs of prone women. He closed his eyes, trying to take his focus off Brianna's grip on him enough that he could come up with a convincing apology.  
  
"Oh, and Ron, try to be truly sorry. I'm not going to take an apology just so you can continue to get your rocks off _gratis_." Brianna smiled at him snidely, and it was then he knew the game was over.  
  
"Fine, I'm sorry Brianna, and I'm sorry Dougie, I didn't mean to plan to spread that rumor all over the place!" He begged, asking for forgiveness. "Geeze, if I would've known you were going to get this mad about all this I wouldn't have even tried inviting you both on this gaming night."  
  
Brianna released her grip on Ronnie and moved back towards the other end of the hallway. "I accept your apology, and you're right, you shouldn't have interfered."  
  
"I'm going to go disconnect the console Bree, you two look like you need to talk," Doug said, noticing that the two were trying to arrange a truce between them.  
  
"Sure," Brianna responded, a little distracted as Doug waved to her and walked back towards 343. She then turned her focus back towards Ronnie, settling down. "Look Ronnie, I'm sorry I reacted the way I did, but the last thing I want here is to have a reputation I don't have." Brianna looked down towards the ground. "I know Doug is your best friend and you're sort of feeling a little peeved at him since he didn't go with you Saturday night."  
  
He sighed and rubbed his chin with his hand. "It wasn't just about Saturday Brianna, it was all this week. He's been acting weird and distant every time I try to ask him if he wants to hang with the chicks I've been meeting on-campus."  
  
"What do you mean distant?"  
  
"As if you didn't know, he's been hanging his head each morning after breakfast because you weren't around to meet him. But you should've seen Dougie on Labor Day, he came back so let down because you went to that Angels game without letting him know."  
  
Brianna was trying to defend herself from Ronnie's probe of her flirtations with Doug. "I didn't even know he came by that day--"  
  
"You knew there was a chance he was coming by in the beginning of the week, don't try to tell me otherwise!" He opened up his door and invited Brianna in, who tried to keep her distance from him. _He can't know that I want Doug_, she thought to herself as she sat down in a rumpled old chair, keeping the bathrobe close to herself.  
  
"I honestly had plans to go see the A's Ronnie, how was I supposed to know that Doug came by the dorm?"  
  
"You knew Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday mornings that he was supposed to pick up the doughnuts after Paris got them. He left my dorm bright-eyed and ready to take on the day after we talked over the 6 o'clock _Sportscenter_, he was looking forward to getting his breakfast from you." He frowned at her. "Then when he came back he had a sulk on his face and was dragging himself around class. After asking why his mood had soured, he brushed off the question, told me to meet him for lunch and went on his way."  
  
"I had to study early--" Brianna tried to lie her way out of this conversation, but it was all for naught. Ronnie leaned his computer chair back, surveying the girl in front of him.  
  
"You were avoiding him after Friday, weren't you?" he questioned. "You wanted to shove what you felt for him into the back and not worry about it again." He lowered his gaze and made direct eye contact with the girl, clasping his hands together. "I've known Dougie since I was six and he helped me through the wild world of kindergarten, and I know when my best friend is having a case of being whipped by a chick." He started to explain the warning signs Doug exhibited when he crushed on someone of the opposite sex. "When he was twelve and in seventh grade, a new girl who had moved west to San Diego from a small town near the Salton Sea caught his eye, and suddenly pranking the teachers in our classes seemed to be the last thing on his mind. He wanted to do nothing but follow this girl around, she was his first real love and man, he fell hard for her. Me and the other guys in our group would try to keep the 'girls are gross' gears spinning in his mind, but the only thing he wanted all that school year was to have one date with Darlene Whitman. He never got it because she moved again before the end of the school year, but it started him down the same cycle of puppy love. See girl, fall for girl and ignore friends, date girl for awhile until the friends get involved and either dump or get dumped by the girl."  
  
"Look," she started, after she took Ronnie's explanation in, "I don't have an interest in him Ronnie, honestly, I'm not trying to play around with him."  
  
"You want him, he wants you." Ronnie laid it all out on the table. "Have you ever had your heart broken so much that it takes a lot to let someone back in?"  
  
"No." Brianna said the word with no emotion, trying to keep Ronnie away from her inner and soul circles. Only Paris, Lara and the Daugherty parents knew that Brianna's heart had been crushed to a million pieces by Leonard on that convention center stage, and letting Ronnie know about that secret was something that unnerved her. She never expected Ronnie's next words to come out of his mouth, and what was behind them all.  
  
"Doug's had his heart broken this year hard, and it's been a tough summer trying to keep his spirits up." He looked down at his hands, trying to keep his promise to Doug that he wouldn't divulge anything about Claudia and the way she had forced him to keep love at arm's length. "Look, I don't know what the heck it is about you that's changing him from number one player to a guy who's a lovesick puppy over you, but you're doing something right."  
  
"Huh, he can't be--" Brianna tried speaking but was stopped by Ronnie, trying to defend his friend.  
  
"He is Brianna, and from the way you came down here ready to break my neck you're trying to keep any rumors of you and him together. I just want you to know that I'm not going to interfere between you two anymore, and if you ever get together I'm fully in support of you two."  
  
The brunette got up from the chair, ending the conversation abruptly. "There's nothing to interfere with Ronnie, now if you'll excuse me I have to see Doug out of my dorm. I'll talk to you Monday morning when you pick up the doughnuts." She collected her bearings and walked out of the dorm, Ronnie staying in his chair and wondering what it would take to get those enigmatic personalities together. He looked towards a poster of Anna Kournikova for advice on what to do with those stubborn beings.  
  
"What can I do? Both of them just seem set in their ways," he told himself as he grabbed his remote and turned it on one of those gross SpikeTV cartoons. "I just hope she doesn't hurt Doug unknowingly. One more heartbreak and the guy's gonna turn either asexual or into a chainsaw killer." He chuckled at his really lame joke and laid down on the couch. He was going to milk this drama for all it was worth, hopefully ending in some kind of resolution for their feelings towards each other.  


* * *

Doug came out of 343 holding the bulky console of his PS2 and his game in one hand, while his other gripped the audio, video and electrical cables for dear life. The game controllers were shoved sloppily into his pockets as he attempted to make it back to his room with everything that he needed. He knew he'd pass Brianna one more time as he went down the hall, so he tried to make it only one trip back down to 319. _If I'm in here when she comes back something's going to give and I'm going to take myself off the 'just friends' track_, was his way of trying to cut out all the thoughts he was having for the brunette. The added fact she was going without a bra and he could see that clearly had caused him throughout the night to drive his pleasure lobe's thoughts towards very unsexual situations, something towards the lines of any episode of Jerry Springer where the words 'large woman' and 'stripping' were involved. Which was pretty much every episode of the talk show ever.  
  
All he knew was that when he got back into his dorm room, the door was going to be locked and he'd be in the shower for about an hour with the water temperature below 65°.  
  
He opened up the door and started the short walk down the hall to his room, hopeful that he'd be able to wish his love goodnight and that her temper had been turned down after reaming Ronnie a new orifice. He thought of how feisty the girl had been as she denied that her and Doug had sex in front of Ronnie, and imagined that energy transformed to the actual act. Combining the effect of the way she had been looking at him in the towel, and there was no doubt in Doug Merriwether's mind that there was something going on with Brianna that she was avoiding what was there and very apparent in front of her.  
  
He wouldn't say it to anybody else, especially Brianna, but she had to be in the first stages of lust. Doug just knew it.  
  
The trouble was, why was she holding out on him and not letting him in too close to her? She had been made nervous after the dorm encounter the week before, and had immediately reined herself in order to protect from being hurt in any way. That protection had a side effect however, as it sealed Doug off from finding out anymore about Brianna and her past. He wasn't about to ask Brianna about why she was so closed in to everyone else, and his kinship with Paris was still fractured after the handshake incident.  
  
_She's the only one with any insight on Bree_, he thought to himself, pausing in the hall to brainstorm. _Paris had to have had some kind of introduction to her life and past, and they've been out together on girl outings, I remember stopping to spar with Paris after they had gone tanning a couple weeks ago._ He struggled to remember those few kind moments him and Paris had shared in the last few weeks, and had to come to the conclusion that in order to make Brianna his girlfriend, he had to stop avoiding the blonde heiress in the halls and around campus, suck up his male pride and make friends with Paris. He wasn't going to avoid her forever if he wanted to see Brianna, and there was the small feeling in his mind that Paris knew something about their budding chemistry. He needed an ally, and Paris had to be in his corner for everything to work out with Brianna.  
  
Speaking of whom, was coming around the corner as Doug walked towards his room, lost in her thoughts about Doug. He nearly averted a crash by shouting her name and getting her attention. She slowed down, and waited for him to get near her before they said goodnight to each other.  
  
"Ronnie give you any lip back Miss Feisty?" he asked as he propped his game unit back up into his arms.  
  
She smirked. "Nah, I think we came to a good understanding of what he can and can't do anymore, he's receptive to us now. We talked."  
  
"Did you exchange best friends forever ankle bracelets yet?" he joked, making Brianna giggle.  
  
"Who knows, we'll see. But he's not going to interfere with our friendship anymore." She settled the f-word on her tongue to make sure it didn't accidentally turn into relationship, because she didn't feel ready for that next step quite yet, despite her burgeoning feelings.  
  
"Well good, I'm glad you two are getting along," Doug said. He thought of asking her on a another gaming date, but decided to give Brianna an open invitation instead. "I had lots of fun tonight, we should do it again in a few days Bree."  
  
"I did too, well after we got away from Piper throwing grenades at us relentlessly." She nervously chuckled, and found her hands interesting. "I'll take you up on that one of these days Doug, I owe you for saving me from having to teach an intellectual like Paris volleyball in a real forum, I may not have survived her whining and the pain she probably would've suffered several times when she spiked the ball."  
  
"Hey, s_i dormitorio es su dormitorio senorita_," he said to her in Spanish kindly. Even with her 160 IQ Brianna was confused by the little smirk on Doug's face when he said that. Thinking he had probably learned that line from a bad pick-up line article in _Esquire_, Brianna decided to challenge him before she left his sight for the night.  
  
"_Usted tiene muchos de las bolas Doug. Tengo gusto de eso._" She responded back, a little flair and spice tacked onto her Espanol. She then started walking away from him.  
  
"You don't know how much I have, I'll have to show you someday." Brianna turned back around to face a smiling Doug, understading every word she said. "I kind of forgot to tell you I have a few friends south of the border, I'm very fluent in Spanish."  
  
"I'm sure those 'friends' appreciate that each time you pay $10 for 15 minutes." She rolled her eyes at him and turned back around to head back to her dorm. "Goodnight Doug, see you later."  
  
"Same to you Brianna." He turned around with a nice smirk on his face, caused from the enjoyable evening he had spent with his current infatuation. He had a feeling they were going to repeat these nights all through the school year.  
  
"She'll crack someday, I know it," he commented to himself, lovesick and hoping for more to come from Brianna. He headed back into his dorm to savor the memories he had of the evening.  


* * *

Brianna cleaned up 343 a little bit before Paris came home, retrieving her laundry from downstairs and folding and sorting it so that Paris didn't have to complain about tripping over her shirts when she came back from class. Fussy about her bed, the rest of Brianna's space was usually messy and was haphazardly organized, a trait she had caught from her father, who would keep his desk in the den clean and immaculate, while the couch and bookshelves surrounding it had things haphazardly thrown all over them.  
  
She talked to Lara in Atlanta on the phone for about a half-hour, telling her best friend about the feelings she was harboring for Doug without going into too much detail. As Paris did, Lara also deduced that it was only a matter of time before Brianna decided to sate her urges and try to start a relationship with Doug, despite the girl's stubbornness.  
  
Brianna was about to head off for an early bedtime and was reading some political coursework when she heard some knocking at the door. She checked the clock on Paris' iBook, and wondered who would be coming to the door at eleven at night. _Can't be Doug_, she thought, _he was planning to study then get some rest_.  
  
"Who is it?" she called out from the couch, a hand near the self-defense bat.  
  
"Is Paris in?" a male voice called out in the hallway. Brianna approached the door slowly and cautiously.  
  
"She's in Northridge, are you a TA for one of her classes?" She perched herself on the tips of her toes to peep through the privacy hole, finding out who it was.  
  
"I'm not that smart," he said. "I'm Jess Mariano from Venice, she might've told you about me. I came by to see if she was home and to retrieve my shirt."  
  
She peeked through, and even through the warped convex view of the cylindrical lens, figured out why Paris had become a self-described 'horny Helga' within the space of eight days. _Geeze he's hot. Not as hot in my world as Doug is, but I can see why this boy makes her dreams X-rated._ Even without a picture of him Brianna trusted Jess enough to open the door and invite him in.  
  
"Come on in Jess, I think she has it hanging in the bathroom somewhere," Brianna told Jess as she opened up the door and gestured him to sit on the futon couch. "She ran out of pajamas to wear a few nights ago, so she's been using it for bed wear since you didn't come back and claim it beforehand, I hope you don't mind." She shook his hand and introduced herself. "By the way, I'm Brianna."  
  
"Nice to meet you, and no, I don't," he said distractedly, as the image of Paris wearing his flannel came to his mind for a few moments, and he imagined her tuckered out in bed, playing with the buttons as she read a nice fat book on the Crusades. _Whoa buddy, hang on there, it isn't that sexy of an image!_ He thought to himself, trying to keep the purpose of the visit in mind. He took an extra shift at Target that night so he wouldn't have to deal with a night alone with his father. Both had been looking forward to inviting Paris to the Casa Mariano and had tried to make a night out of it, but with Paris at work Jimmy felt that quarterly inventory at the hot dog stand would be a better use of his time rather than spending a night with his son. The two were still uneasy three months living with each other, and despite their blood bond they seemed more Oscar and Felix living together than father and son. Slowly they were getting to know each other, but they both still needed their space.  
  
Brianna dug through the towels hanging in the bathroom until she located the blue and red flannel, lurking like a hidden object in the _Finders Keepers _first round game inside of a dark blue towel hanging from the top sill of the sliding shower door. Flannel in hand she walked back into the main room and called for Jess' attention.  
  
"Catch!" Brianna tossed the shirt in his direction, but he didn't have enough notice to turn around on the couch, so it ended up bonking him on his head and hanging off his shoulder.  
  
"Hey!" he cried out, shaking his head as he put the shirt in his duffel bag along with the other things he had brought to work. "You have to warn me about that, I'm a book guy!"  
  
Brianna laughed and sat down on the other end of the couch. "You're just as bad a catcher as Paris, I toss her a paperback and her hands become webbed paddles or something, it's comedic relief to see her catch one of those things."  
  
"Good to know she has the same genes as Marcia Brady," he joked. He took a pencil out of his pants packet. "Do you have any looseleaf, I need to leave Paris a couple things, and a note telling her that I stopped by."  
  
"Sure, there's a pad over by the phone, I can go get it for you," Brianna responded. She was feeling a little curious about what Jess was leaving her roommate and pried in. "Care to clue in a neutral third party on what fine parting gifts your lucky contestant will receive when she comes home?"  
  
Jess opened up his army surplus bag, and dug through the books and notebooks lurking beneath until he found the two packages he had wrapped in brown paper during his break at Target earlier in the day. The only embellishment on the gifts was a red tape-on bow on each of the parcels, and some to-from writing on the upper end. He held the parcels in his hands, looking for a place to put them down. He signaled Brianna to help him out, and as she grabbed the pad, she pointed at Paris' bed.  
  
"Thanks, and no you can not be clued in, I want this to be a surprise to Paris, she must've had a tough week getting into the college newspaper business." He placed the gifts down on her pillow, then sat down at her area of the desk to compose his letter.  
  
"She's going to be, seeing as her birthday isn't until December and you stole 'her' shirt." Brianna laughed and sat down in her chair watching Jess write and frown.  
  
"Her shirt? It's mine, I just left it behind!" Jess looked up at Paris' roommate, surprised.  
  
"Jess, you know what happens when you leave behind a shirt in the apartment of a girl you're flirting with, she takes custody of it until you tear it out of her hands. Ten bucks that Paris gets ready for bed later, looks for her shirt and ends up waking you from a deep sleep at 2am crying into the phone 'how could you cad, that flannel and I were starting to bond like an old comfy quilt from my crib'."  
  
"She is not going to, Paris isn't a lovesick fool into those kinds of things," Jess insisted. "Back when we talked in Hartford, you mentioned the word love to her and she'd start on a tirade that Romeo and Juliet deserved what they got and she hoped that if Shakespeare arose from the dead and wrote a sequel he would keep the Montagues and Capulets fighting as much as the Hatfields and McCoys!"  
  
"I'll let you in on a little secret;" Brianna shuffled over to Jess' side and whispered into his ear. "She's a hopeless romantic. I can't tell you much more, but she's going to relish your gifts, despite how anachronistic the practice might be. She also partakes in 'recreational reading' that involves romance novels and pulpy drama. Don't tell her I said that though, otherwise I'll be scared for my life when she comes after me with some kind of medieval weapon."  
  
"Really?" Jess curled his lips into a smile. "I can't see her reading those kinds of stories." He brought his concentration back onto his note and finished out what he had to say.  
  
"Believe it or not Jess, she does, and I do too. I remember after we finished unpacking and I started to shelve my books, I noticed one of my big fat Harlequins with plenty of intrigue and the literary equivalent of smut was gone. I looked in my bags and all over the room, but couldn't seem to find it at all, even though I'd been reading it on the plane ride down here from San Francisco." Brianna smiled as she recalled the hunt for her book. "I called Paris to see if she knew where it was, but she denied even knowing about the book, so I assumed that she didn't have it. That is, until I cracked open a Roughneck tote she brought up last which had the words 'DO NOT TOUCH!!' in big black marker. Being a sneak, I took off the mailing tape that was sealing the top to the bottom, and discovered about 250 novels of various plots of all types, and she even had the complimentary champagne flute you get from the Harlequin club when you join. It was then I had a feeling of why she really snuck off to the library."  
  
"She had it, didn't she?"  
  
"The moment she walked back into the dorm holding that book in her hand, and saw me standing against the counter tapping my foot, she knew the charade was over. She admitted to swiping the book, and although she was a little perturbed to hear I broke into her stash, that anger was quickly replaced with relief that she'd be able to share her hidden habit with me." Brianna headed over to her bed and started straightening the sheets. "Can I ask you something Jess, other girl to boy?"  
  
Jess folded his note to Paris and placed it atop the parcels. "I guess," he said to her, sighing.  
  
"It may not be my business, and if you don't want to answer the question go ahead and avoid it, I just want to make sure of something. Paris' friend, your ex-girlfriend, do you still have any feelings for her?"  
  
_And here it is, the probe by the new best friend of your past_, Jess thought to himself. He was actually hoping that someone would eventually ask him that question in order to release a burden off his shoulders from carrying Rory's torch, long fizzled out months ago.  
  
"I don't have any feelings for Rory anymore except friendship," he answered honestly. "It was a good relationship when it lasted, but in all honesty it arose more out of expectations than true love. The whole town had come to the conclusion that eventually Rory and I would be dating despite my past, and I guess I felt I had to follow through on it."  
  
"But there were other things, right? Like the fact that your uncle and her mother are now together."  
  
"Hate to admit it, but I think those two starting to date helped me and Rory's breakup more than it hurt. They were avoiding feelings for ten years; my year of pining for Gilmore paled in comparison. They're much better in the long run than if things had gone the other way. Also, Rory never really wanted to get her hands dirty about my past and avoided bringing it up as much as she could, and that was something that just made me so mad at her at times. I'd go into a story about an old friend from Brooklyn and she'd interrupt it in a moment with either a rant about Paris or her college plans." He placed a hand in his jean pocket and laughed. "At least her annoyance with Paris was good for entertainment."  
  
"Or your imagination," Brianna observed. "You're glad you bumped into her that night two weeks, aren't you?"  
  
"I'm very thankful for that," he said. "She's so encouraging, a great conversationalist, great at debating someone like me into a deep hole--"  
  
Brianna interrupted Jess. "And she doesn't look too bad either."  
  
"I'd use different words than that, but yes, Paris doesn't look too bad at all." He crookedly smiled. "She dressed like a total dowdy wallflower back in Hartford, and let me say I'm thankful that the climate here changed her wardrobe drastically."  
  
"OK, I refuse to go further with that because I don't think of my friend that way!" She held up her hand and drove thoughts of Paris undressed out of her mind.  
  
"Come on, I'm sure your envious of her," he teased.  
  
"Shut up you before I start throwing things," Brianna pouted, getting a hold of a throw pillow. "I have quite enough breastage, thank you very much. Geeze, you guys with your obsessions with all things Hooters. You realize that human females are the only living thing that use their breasts to attract the attentions of a male. In the animal kingdom it's all about the rear end when it comes to attraction."  
  
"Human females also use their asses to attract things, i.e. Jennifer Lopez," he countered.  
  
"Yes, but all the ass shots in the world couldn't stop _Gigli_ from dying in the theaters." Brianna rolled her eyes and wondered why she even got into this conversation with an almost total stranger. "You should have this conversation with Paris, not me, I don't really look at butts that often. It fulfills its purpose of sitting, and that's all it is to me, a filled cushion of flesh. Without it we'd all be sitting on our pelvic bones in those lifesaver-like hemorrhoid pillows or perhaps a very horizontal society, sleeping against the wall."  
  
"You never think about asses at all?"  
  
"Not very often, if I do it's usually because it's too big or small and whoever has it needs to change it." Brianna failed to tell Jess that the conversation had her thinking about Doug's derriere behind the towel a week ago all over again, and her mind kept that picture frozen throughout the conversation. "Why, do you think of the backside a lot Mariano?"  
  
"I won't say anything about that because I'm sure it would come back to haunt me if I ever became famous." Jess took one last look at the pillow where Paris' gifts were residing for now, and prepared to leave. "I should get going before Paris comes home and the surprise is ruined."  
  
"Yeah, I need to take a shower and finish up some schoolwork." Brianna got up and guided Jess to the door. "It was nice finally seeing you mystery man."  
  
"What?" Jess looked at Brianna with confusion in his eyes.  
  
"My name for you for the last couple weeks since we haven't met, and now I see why." She played with her hair as she saw him out. "I hope we get to see more of each other Jess, I can see why you and Paris match up with each other so well." After the question about his status with Rory, Brianna tried to keep the line of questioning neutral just in case Jess wasn't feeling the same way about Paris.  
  
"Nice to meet you too Brianna, I can see now why you two got along so fast. You must've done something to get into her good graces quickly, it takes a long time for most people to even be spoken to by her."  
  
"I could say the same about you," she told him with a smile. "I just don't know what she'll do without the shirt though, she is going to be pissed about that I'm sure."  
  
The boy looked down at the flannel he was wearing, an almost totally blue checkered shirt over a dark blue tee. _A small sacrifice to the cause_, he thought to himself as he decided to replace the shirt he was taking home with him. He took off the flannel, and with Brianna trying her best to avert her eyes and keep un-friendish thoughts out of her brains as she noticed Jess' physique, handed it to her.  
  
"Now she has nothing to be pissed about," he said simply as he slipped the rope strap of his army bag over his shoulder. "Tell her I'll call on Monday night to make the plans for Friday night dinner at my house."  
  
"OK, see you later." Brianna balled up the flannel and tossed it towards Paris' bed, where it landed in the middle of the mattress. Jess waved at her goodbye, and she shut the door on him and proceeded to head over to her PC to proofread a book review for one of her classes.  


* * *

Paris was exhausted and about to fall asleep as she walked into the front lobby of the Saxons, her shoulder hurting from the pressure of the strap of her messenger bag. Although the 'night from hell' had turned out to be much better than she had thought and she had a new friendship thanks to Mai Lin, other parts at the night had grated her mind, like during a short-lived rally by the Toreadors in the second set where everyone in the student section was up from their seats trying to encourage Cal State-Northridge to win the set, cheering loudly and doing the wave until UCLA responded by taking back possession and sweeping the rest of the set. The crowd noise had made Paris' head pound through the rest of the night, and when her and Mai Lin had stopped in at a diner for a bite to eat she had the waitress bring her a single-pack of Anacin to take with her water.  
  
She really liked Mai Lin, and hoped that her and the Laotian girl would have many more assignments together, since she wanted to know more about the girl from Eau Claire. Back at the _Franklin_, photographers were assigned on a per-story basis due to a rule not instituted by Paris that she couldn't change, thus making the reporting and photography seem like two separate views instead of one united perspective. Paris would be more than happy to share the spotlight with Mai Lin and hoped they would stay together as they moved up the ranks.  
  
Before she headed back to her dorm, Paris stopped by the front desk to pick up her mail, but she hadn't found anything from Rory in the package at all. She attributed it to her being too busy in New Haven to get a few moments in for a letter to Paris. But she did get a postcard from Coral Gables courtesy of Louise, which instead of having a picture of Miami's skyline, had a play on words of a tourist slogan.  
  
"Virginia is for lovers, and in Wisconsin, you're among friends. But Miami Beach is for one-night stands," she read, giggling at the words. "Only you Louise, only you." She went into the elevator and read the postcard as the elevator made its climb up to the third floor.  
  
_Dear Paris,  
  
Whoever in 1896 decided it was a good idea to set up a city in the South Florida swamp was really onto something, because I think I've finally found my place in life. Miami and South Florida are beautiful, and it definitely shows in the male population down here, I just wanna eat 'em all up ;). I'm a nice coppery shade of brown thanks to the beach, yet despite all the, er, distractions, I haven't disappointed you yet girl. UM's a wonderful school and the faculty has managed to make me give a damn about my schooling, a nice bonus in addition to the weather. Running out of room, so I gotta go. Hope LA's treating you good, send me back a dispatch from Hollywood doll!  
  
Your friend,  
Louise  
  
P.S. - Seriously? I have a crush on a guy in sociology, and for more than what's in his shorts, honest. I'll email you the 411 one of these days.  
_   
Paris cracked a smile as the elevator doors opened after reading the card. _That girl just may be ready to settle down soon_, she thought as made a mental note to pick up a few postcards the next time she stopped at the campus bookstore. It perked up her mood to hear from Louise, though not spending the night with Jess weighed slightly on her mind. Despite the fun she had with Mai Lin at the volleyball game and learning on-the-job about how to report a sporting event, she felt guilty for not calling him at the bare minimum so that he would know that her interest in him was still piqued.  
  
_I have to call him tomorrow at least, try to remind him that I'm still out there_, she nagged at herself as she walked down the hallway towards her room. There was hardly any hustle and bustle in the halls so it wasn't long before she was back in front of 343, hoping to hear if Brianna had decided to take a chance with Doug. She opened up the door and threw her messenger bag on one of the stools against the kitchenette counter.  
  
"Bree, I'm home!" she called out as she watched her roommate turn around in her chair.  
  
"Hey Par, how did everything go?" Brianna asked out of curiosity. She tried creating a distraction so that Paris wouldn't notice her bed right away. If she could keep Paris talking until she was ready to ask where Jess' red/blue flannel disappeared off to, that would be a small victory in her mind.  
  
"We won, I was sane throughout despite my deep hatred of anything sport, Mai Lin took great photographs and I think I have a basic first draft of the story that won't need much modification at all. All in all, this night didn't turn out all so bad at all." She placed her reporter's notebook down on the counter and walked towards her dresser, oblivious to the gifts sitting on the pillow. "Everything go fine with you and Doug?"  
  
"Almost," Brianna admitted. "We got our asses kicked in the online game, but after I pulled the plug we salvaged the night, and I got a chance to get some revenge on Ronnie while I was at it."  
  
"What'd he do, interrupt you during a deep conversation."  
  
"Worse, he set up a LAN party on purpose with Piper and it was up to me and Doug to salvage our unit. Doug knew but he couldn't say anything, I'm not mad at him though."  
  
"Of course you aren't, he's your One right now. He could hack into the school network and change low grades and you'd swoon like he just saved you from the dragon."  
  
"Doug a hacker? HA! The boy needed my help setting up his IP and patching into the EA servers, I'm the computer whiz kid." Brianna just shrugged at Paris' other comments. "And he's not the One just quite yet, this was our first night together and he still has plenty of time to fubar around me, I'm not exactly in love with him yet at all."  
  
"Mm-hmm Bree, you just keep saying that. I don't believe you for a moment, you're so in lust with him." Paris found a spare undershirt she could wear beneath the flannel, and headed into the bathroom to change. "You just need to get into a date-like situation and find out if those feelings you have for him are real, get them out of your system. That's what happened with me and Tristan back in sophomore year when Rory set me up with him. Yes it was amazing, and yes I had the most amazing kiss ever thanks to him, but he was attracted to Rory, no doubt, the confirmation that he was set up was just the icing on the cake to make sure that Tristan was roped into it. It was a tough pill to swallow and it took me quite awhile to get over him, but I did it because I knew we had no chance at a future together."  
  
"I know, but at least you've dated Paris, albeit with few men. I was the girl in the corner asking everyone to keep their mouths shut, and one night at a dance was one night wasted away from honing my vocabulary. I have zero dating experience at all--"  
  
"So do I," Paris called out. "And when it comes down to it, except for anyone who goes on a TV dating show, has an arranged date or has a yenta in their corner most everything is spur of the moment. Remember when you told me last Friday was a bona-fide date despite my denials to the contrary?"  
  
"You've changed your mind."  
  
"I have, and I'll be counting it as a date. Jess may not, but I will. I didn't even have to be ten feet away from my bed and I still managed to have a ball with him." Paris unbuttoned her shirt and searched beneath the towel she hid the flannel in, futile in the search for 'her' shirt now back on Thornton Court in Venice. "Speaking of Jess, have you seen my shirt Brianna?"  
  
"Not at all Ris," Brianna called back innocently. "I haven't been in the bathroom all that much today."  
  
"Please say you didn't throw it in with the wash because I know how much you either wanted me to bring it back to him personally or dispose of it in the incinerator." She started to search each of the six towels hanging from the rods around the room, trying to find it, but coming up empty. By about towel number four, she was fuming.  
  
"Damn it, where did it go?" she uttered in a voice tinged with panic. "Brianna, you mixed it in with your laundry, didn't you?" Paris rebuttoned her blouse and flew out of the bathroom as Brianna enjoyed the comical scene that was ensuing by withholding certain information.  
  
"Honest Par, I haven't seen it at all. Maybe you threw it in your backseat without noticing."  
  
This was about the time that Brianna learned that teasing Paris was not a particulary good idea. Suddenly her eyes seemed to take on a dark shade of maroon with flecks of fire orange around the irises.  
  
"Brianna, where is it? Stop goading me," she growled out harshly. "You know where it is, don't you?"  
  
_I better stop before I become the top story on UPN13_, Brianna said to herself as she pointed towards the bed. "The owner decided to claim it back tonight, and might I say you have very nice taste in men Gellar. However, before he left I warned of the consequences of leaving you in the cold, so he left the flannel he was wearing tonight behind on your bed."  
  
"Huh?" Paris turned her gaze towards the bed, and found the blue shirt sitting in the middle, along with the two gifts on the pillow. The butterflies she had been having whenever Jess was mentioned, and seemed to be reined in for the evening were coming back into her stomach. No doubt she was about to become a pile of romantic goo all over again like she did at the end of last week's meeting.  
  
"And he also left a little something to make sure you didn't feel neglected since you had to work tonight." Brianna said the words, but Paris couldn't hear them as she approached the foot of her bed. Sitting down, she grabbed the flannel and put it to her nose. The mix of Brut, sweat, a smidgen of a petroleum product floating around and a few remnants of nicotine hit her senses full-force for the first time since she found the other shirt the week before, and she knew from the aroma that indeed, Jess Mariano had stopped by while she was out. Not even thinking, Paris put the shirt on over her blouse and scooted down the bed to get a closer look at the wrapped gifts.  
  
"This is...really nice," she stumbled out as she ran a finger down the rough the seam of medium-sized flat package. "You're sure it was Jess? Black hair, brown eyes, the classic look of James Dean? It might've been someone else and I might be holding some kind of secret videotape the government wants and they dumped the responsibility off on me."  
  
"I didn't ask for ID and a blood sample, but I'm pretty sure it is," Brianna said back.  
  
"It isn't though, Jess isn't the gift-giving type." Paris shook her head and compared the _to Paris from Jess_ handwriting on the smaller parcel to that of the letter from a couple weeks ago she had memorized down to his open-looped J in her mind. She found the note Jess had left sandwiched between the gifts and was going to read it, until she was scolded by the paper. _Read after you've opened the presents_, it told her. She sighed and ran the tip of her index fingernail against the tape holding the paper together. _Figuring from the weight_, she hypothesized, _this is probably going to be a book. _She carefully zipped the nail across the middle of the Scotch tape, and found the first signs of the tell-tale look of a thick paperback.  
  
"This is a book," she told herself. "Wonder what it could be?" She opened the top flap, and discovered that the volume was one of two Jess had wrapped into the same package. The slow unwrapper she was, Paris opened up each end of the gift deliberately, not giving in to her urge to just tear the paper limb for limb. It would be good to put it to other use to her, say as extra scratch paper or to use as giftwrapping for a relative she hadn't taken a liking to. She'd find a use for it.  
  
Brianna watched Paris, impatient with how long her roommate was taking with finding out what her gifts were. After a moment, she had finally had enough and walked over to Paris' bed.  
  
"Par? Just open the freakin' present." She rolled her eyes and was on the receiving end of a small girl-punch on her elbow. "Ow!"  
  
"I take my time Brianna," Paris stated matter-of-factly. "It's like a chocolate, you don't know what's in it until you actually get a full taste of the confection."  
  
"So I guess that rules out the gift-wrapped stripper I was planning for your combined Hanukah/birthday bash, by the time you unwrap his package everyone will be fast asleep."  
  
Paris blushed. "Oh geeze, if you get that I'll be hiding in the bathroom the rest of my college days, I wouldn't know what to do with something like that."  
  
"Besides the obvious?"  
  
"No, because nudity unnerves me, even done in jest. Louise gave me a copy of _Playgirl_ as a gag gift for my bat mitzvah, and though I got through the articles fine, the pictoral content...Let's just say that nudity has never inspired me to do anything but blush and feel very unclean for staring at a picture with everything out there to see."  
  
"Uh-huh, and you're so shy about the literary smut dear," Brianna touché'd back. "You couldn't live without it."  
  
"That's different though, I can create my own picture from those words. With _Playgirl_ you have to picture the actual guy, and sometimes they're more like the men of your nightmares than your dreams." Paris puckered her lips in a sour position as she finally got the last of the gift wrap off of the two books.  
  
"True, true. Although tell me something Paris."  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"If Jess was to pose for a magazine like that, what would you do?" Brianna prepared for the upcoming assault on her ears, but didn't receive a rant as Paris stated her argument simply after a wide look of surprise.  
  
"I'd kick his ass and buy up every copy published I could. Then I'd thank my lucky stars I've been one of the few girls to see him in that way." She then took her position to a realistic conclusion. "Besides, Jess is too shy to have his picture taken, even fully clothed. If he wanted to titillate he'd submit an anonymous essay to _LA Weekly_ about his first time."  
  
"How do you know that, you know him from occasional visits from Rory only and just five hours together and several phone calls over the last few weeks."  
  
"I think we're kindred spirits somehow. We have the horrid parenting in common, along with focusing our energies in one thing, him in troublemaking until he came up to Connecticut, and I with my studying. I can't really explain it, except to say my mother hiring that new age guru for me a couple years ago seems to have warped my romantic side a little." She brought her glance down towards the books she was holding, and read each title to Brianna.  
  
"Jess gave me _The Thomas Guide for Los Angeles and Orange County_. Hmm," She wrinkled her eyebrows as she glanced at the cover. "Very thoughtful gift, seeing as it took me about twenty minutes tonight to find the right road up to Northridge." Paris was thinking of the atlas she received in more practical terms. However, her roommate saw more than a book of maps in Paris' hands.  
  
"He doesn't want you to get lost," Brianna hypothesized. "It's kind of a vague way of saying that he wants you to stay in Los Angeles for as long as he's here. It's more than the maps Gel, it's what the message is from the intention of the gift itself."  
  
"Really, I didn't even think of that." She paged through the book, watching southern California unfold in a blur. "But it makes sense to me, Jess has always been very vague when it comes to the messages he sends."  
  
"So you understand the intentions?"  
  
"Very clearly Bree," she said, setting aside the atlas and taking a look at the cover of the other book. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Jess is still trying to get me on the Kerouac kick."  
  
"What title did he buy?"  
  
"_Dharma Bums_," Paris told Brianna. "That one will have to wait a while however, I'm only on chapter eight of _On the Road_. He's never going to give up on the guy while I'm around."  
  
"You like it I hope," Brianna queried. "It took him effort to think of the perfect presents for you."  
  
"I love it, don't worry. My period of judging the beat generation by their covers is long finished, I like _On the Road_. I'm just not ready to tackle two books by the same author at the same time, I'd get confused if I mixed up the chapter of one book with the other."  
  
"That makes complete sense," the brunette said as she handed Paris the other gift, a longish rectangular package. "Here's the other one, and please don't spend ten minutes tearing off the bow, your friend is in suspense here hon."  
  
Paris took the package and tried to make an educated guess about its contents. "OK, guessing from the length and weight of this, it's either some kind of electrical appliance or a can crusher." She smiled and faced Brianna before the surprise was revealed.  
  
"Only one way to find out. Start tearing." Unlike the books, the brown wrapping this time was torn to shreds and the bow fell to the floor as the contained item was revealed to Paris quickly. Still being one for surprise, she shut her eyes as her hands picked and ripped at the Scotch tape to hasten the unwrapping process. Thirty seconds later, she was done and kept her eyes shut, asking Brianna's opinion before she opened them back up.  
  
"It's a strange present, but I think it might mean something to you Par," she said.  
  
"It isn't a sex toy, isn't it?" Paris frowned at the word strange and thought the worst immediately.  
  
Brianna giggled, then composed herself. "Well the toy part is correct, but nothing involving anything adult."  
  
"I don't want to take any chances, open up the box and put whatever's in it back in my hands." She handed the mystery object over to Brianna, who furiously took off all the security and protective ties holding it to the packaging to end the drama. It took a minute, but after testing to make sure that everything was in order, she handed Paris the toy.  
  
Paris ran her hand against it, trying to memorize the texture just by feel alone. _It feels so soft, might be a teddy bear_, she thought as she squeezed it. Instead of feeling the other side though, she felt something hard in the middle, and heard a click as she pushed in some kind of trigger.  
  
For a couple moments, Paris could swear she was back in 1990, getting ready to watch ABC's Friday night with Francisca and her kids in the great room, curled up in her nightgown and a big afghan. Everything felt so familiar, and as her hands moved up and up, the feeling of the familiar felt body came back to her mind. At the top of the object, she felt what seemed like a hard plastic face.  
  
_No way, he didn't..._Her mind spun for a moment as she realized the utter familiarity of what she was grasping in her hands. _That's it, time to open my eyes, I will not scream or act girly when I open them, I will be calm and collected_, she pleaded to herself as her lids opened up to face the world again.  
  
And there, laying in her hands, was something she had kept in her room up until her twelfth birthday and just about dragged around the house numerous times, and was only taken away by her mother because of some lame reasoning about it being a fire hazard that would burn down the Manor, but had probably been fixed by now. Paris was once again the proud owner of a GloWorm doll.  
  
Despite the pleas to herself not to act like a teenager in love, a small involuntary squeak came out of Paris' mouth as she took in the sight of the friendly little green caterpillar-like creature with the nightcap on his head and a face that glows bright when hugged.  
  
"Oh my God," she uttered as she did a double take to make sure she wasn't dreaming. "I didn't think he'd pick up on it at all."  
  
"On what?" Brianna asked, enjoying the fact that Jess' gifts were putting a smile on her friend's face.  
  
"I mentioned in passing last week when he was over that I owned one of these and hadn't seen one out for years. I loved mine when I had it but never scrounged up the courage before I left to get it back from the attic." She laughed and sighed as she squeezed the doll again, letting the soft amber light overwhelm her senses. "Where did he even get this anyways? They don't even sell this model GloWorm in the stores anymore, Hasbro came out with a new version more geared towards preschoolers than regular children, this is in mint condition." Paris grabbed the box from the ground and searched for the copyright date, finding it on the bottom. "Copyright 1989 Playskool, Inc." she read. "He must've had to really dig deep to find this, he certainly wouldn't have found it in the back room at Target."  
  
Brianna pointed down at the floor, where in the flurry of activity minutes before, Jess' note of explanation fell onto the light-blue berber carpet. "There might be the explanation."  
  
"Oh, right." Paris uttered softly as she bent down and grabbed the note. "Even the best of us still have blonde moments I suppose."  
  
"I'm a natural brunette and have them often," Brianna told her, laughing. "That report is calling out for me to finish it, so I'll leave you and the note alone, alright?"  
  
"Thanks Brianna," she smiled and curled up on her bed with the GloWorm and books at her side. "One question though, you think Jess is attractive?"  
  
Brianna pretended to ponder the question for five seconds before laughing aloud. "Paris, trust me. You don't wanna let this boy be the one that got away. And as for me trying to steal him away from you..." she spoke honestly and hoped Paris would let the topic rest after that. "I have other things on my mind already--"  
  
"And that thing would be Doug, wouldn't it?"   
  
Brianna sighed and just walked to her computer seat, leaving her roommate in relative seclusion. "Whatever you say Gellar, I meant my paper." As she sat down, she corrected for her mind. _OK, she's right, it's Doug. But it's better to be friends first with him, then lovers. I just want to take this cautiously. I've already got past the dreaded first night, and if it goes well in the next few weeks..._she stopped to take a look at the text she was typing onto the OpenOffice screen, and realized that half a page in the book report had nothing to do with literature, but was a sort of 'get-to-know-me' letter to Doug about her life, friends, likes and dislikes. Groaning, she clicked to highlight the text, cut it out of the book report and pasted the letter to a separate document, saving the file as About Me. She went back to her book report, trying to keep her thoughts away from Doug.  
  
_Yup, I'm sick for the boy_, she confessed to herself. She rolled her eyes and decided to get back to work. _I have four years with him, might as well not rush it, _Brianna thought as she started on her criticism of the text she was assigned.  
  
Meanwhile Paris had gone back into the bathroom to properly change into the new shirt Jess had given her, taking off the blouse beneath. She didn't even bother with pajama bottoms since the flannel went all the way down to the middle of her thighs and she figured Brianna was comfortable enough with her wearing pajamas in that style. She headed over to her bed, and playing with her hair as she spread out on the mattress, read Jess' note to herself.  
  
_Dear Smartie,  
  
Hope things went well with the story up in Northridge, but I'm happy to hear that you're getting back into journalism, you always wrote the best articles in the Franklin. You may ask how I would know that? Well, Rory usually pawned off a copy of the paper to me that I asked for so I could read her prose. That reason ended very quickly when I started reading your opinion pieces, they far outshone Rory's writing so much because they seemed well thought-out and had interesting points and statistics.  
  
So you're probably thinking 'Jess, how on earth did you find the money and inspiration for all these presents?' Target gave me a 75¢/hour raise last week, and instead of using the first check to buy things I'd probably never use, I'd give you a few things since I'm so thankful you're here in LA. I know you haven't finished On the Road quite yet, but damn it I'm going to obliterate Jane Austen from being your favorite author, no matter what it takes.  
  
The atlas...not actually my idea, you can thank Jimmy for that suggestion. He felt it would be some way of saying 'Welcome to the area, hope you don't leave soon' since he's a native Angelino and as sort of an apology for thinking you were a telemarketer, and no matter what I told him about you he thought giving you a book of LA maps would be a gesture of welcome. Looking at it now though, he was sort of right. There's a message in there somewhere, I guess you could talk to Brianna about it, or Jimmy when you stop by next week.  
  
I bet thinking about where I could come up with a mint condition in the box GloWorm, and you've already deduced I didn't pick it up on my way out of work. There was a neighborhood garage sale along the boardwalk last Sunday, and I was over there looking for vintage books and LPs. I was walking along really not finding all that much that interested me, when a elderly woman's little stand off to the side caught my eye. I approached and didn't really know why I was even stopping there, when your comment about owning a GloWorm came back to haunt my mind. And there it was, selling for six dollars, sitting on her table. She told me that it was intended to be a Christmas gift for her grandchild back in 1989, but all the sudden he got into the Ninja Turtles so it was obvious that action figures were in his future. She kept it despite that setback, and sold it to me because I seemed to be a 'pretty good kid'. Her words, not mine. She wondered who I was going to give it to, and not wanting to go into specifics told her 'a girl'. She made me blush when she asked that, but didn't probe further. I thought you'd like this, I really do like listening to you talk Paris. It's just a way to show that you're really important in my life right now, and that I catch every word you speak.  
  
I know I'm saying a little too much, so I'll end the letter here. Before you wonder school is doing fine, and a couple of my teachers are pretty cool. Still need a little help in biology and math is tough, but as you said last week even you weren't a shining star in that class. I hope things are going great for you Paris, and I'll see you around, maybe before next Friday when you have dinner at my house.  
  
Your friend,  
Jess  
  
P.S. - Please, don't thank me for the gifts. I just wanted to show you that you're in my thoughts all the time.  
_   
As her eyes trailed off the last of Jess' writing, Paris felt like crying in joy that Jess hadn't forgotten her. She had thought all the way home about him sulking at home, when really he was trying to put the last touches on a nice surprise designed to make her feel better. For the first time in a few weeks, since she left Hartford, Paris felt appreciated for what she did for others.  
  
She was still in disbelief at the fact that Jess had bought her a children's toy, and at considerable cost. Paris appreciated the thought, sure, but what was confusing about it was that it was Jess, the epitome of sullen and moody. The image of him approaching an older lady and asking the price of a light-up worm toy was comedic in the stage that was her mind, and as she held the toy, another mirage of him trying to keep it obscured from his father without a weird line of questioning occurring made her giggle.  
  
At that moment, Paris knew all the hard work she and Mai Lin put in on the Bruins wouldn't be remembered months from September 5th, and would be but a footnote when the _Daily Bruin_ came out with a centenary special edition twenty-some years after she graduated from UCLA. It would be a fleeting moment of achievement, just as her work at the Hartford Armory every Thanksgiving morning for the community dinner wasn't remembered all that well in her multi-terabyte gray matter.  
  
But this moment, where she received a gift for just being a friend would be remembered forever, and it was a moment that would be personal to her, and just her. Where everyone else received the same heartbreak as her when they got Harvard thin sheets in the mail, and she had the same moment as every other UCLA attendee where they faced the majesty of Royce Hall and intook a breath that their lives were about to have a major change, receiving the gift of a GloWorm would be her memory forever, and no one else's. And that could never be taken away from her at all.  
  
She still tried to find romantic motives in Jess' giftgiving strategy, but couldn't seem to find them in anywhere except the toy. She assumed that the atlas was sort of a Welcome Wagon-like gesture from the elder Mariano, and _Dharma Bums_ was just Jess giving her a book to read when she finished _On the Road_ and the current romance she read between classes. _But the GloWorm..._she thought to herself. _Not even Jamie gave me something this sweet and special, and thought out_. Jamie's idea of a 'straight from the heart' present for Paris on Valentine's Day was an assumption she wanted to watch the Philadelphia Light Opera perform a modern retake on _Romeo and Juliet_ and have dinner in the most expensive restaurant in the city after the show. Judging from her frayed synapses from the end of the night from the poor food and pathetically bad acting and singing in the opera, Jamie annoyed Paris more than showing his love for her.  
  
She looked down at the doll once again, clearing her mind and taking the gift for what it was; just a gift of appreciation for being there when Jess needed help. She squeezed on it to watch it glow, and it warmed her heart just thinking Jess was thinking of her doing that as he drove home to Venice. She took a look at her watch to see how much time there was until he probably got home.  
  
"About 11:45, I have time," she told herself as she reached over to her nightstand to retrieve her cell phone. She flipped the phone open and scrolled her caller ID list until she came upon Jess' entry. After saving him in the #2 position in her speed dial (after Rory, located on the first button), she dialed out, crossing her fingers and hoping there was no one at his house to take her late call. She wouldn't have been surprised if Jimmy was already asleep and Jess was staying out a little late after stopping by the Saxons.  
  
The outside dialing tone rang two or three times, and Paris tried her best to rehearse her message to Jess in a whisper, going over the words in her mind and aloud. After the fourth ring she got the familiar click of an answering machine, and she had to listen to Jimmy try to rattle off personal and business messages in the space of twenty seconds.  
  
"Hello," it said, "you've reached the home of James Mariano, proprietor of Boardwalk Jimmy's Hot Dogs and Pretzels. If you have a business proposition, press one. Personal business involving me or my son, press two. If you're a telemarketer or a lower grade newspaper than the _LA Times_, press that red button off to your side, prepare for the trap door and kiss yourself goodbye, I don't want your business. Have a nice day or evening, and don't forget, Boardwalk Jimmy's uses only 100% beef in our franks--"  
  
"Gah, shut up Jimmy and let me leave a message!" Paris gritted out as Jimmy gave some free promotion to French's and Hunt's for supplying condiments to him. "That's what the business line is for." Finally, not a second too soon, she remembered she could've just pressed two and avoided it all in the first place. She pushed in the two on her keypad and prepared for more spiel.  
  
Thankfully she just got a robotic 'please leave a message', followed by a long tone. _This is it Par, don't screw this up, go girl! _the little her dressed up as a cheerleader in her mind prodded, and she started to stumble through her gratitude.  
  
"This message is for Jess, and no Jimmy, I'm not selling anything, so do not delete this or else! Anyways, it's Paris and it's a quarter to midnight Friday evening." She hesitated for a bit, looking at the GloWorm she held. "I didn't expect you to do something like this for me Jess, and I've had gifts given to me before out of pity or obligation. Sometimes heart was put into them, but quite a few items were along the same-old 'rich-girl' present lines. You know, the wine glasses, clothes, some jewelry. The set-up suitors were even worse. I'm staunchly anti-fur and there have been a couple dates where guys thought they could woo me with a mink stole. After giving them a little education about the conditions those things were kept in before they were turned into winter outerwear--"  
  
She stopped for a moment, and realized that she was ranting on about nothing in particular. Jess couldn't even afford fur, so why would he give a damn about her tirade about the men of Hartford society? _Take another tact quickly, time's running out_, her conscience nagged. Paris started again, trying to keep her words more focused.  
  
"Alright, um, just forget what I said about the furs, who cares. I know that in the note you told me not to thank you for the gifts, but it would just be rude to say nothing about it. I had an OK evening, but I was thinking about you all night and my mood while I worked on the story was reflecting that I'd rather be someplace else, like talking to you and just debating things all night. So when I came home and found what you had given me, I was touched, and not only that, I felt appreciated by someone besides Brianna in this town. Not by only you, but your father, thank him for giving me the atlas of LA for me."  
  
Paris was ad-libbing everything she was saying right off the top of her head, and letting Jess have a peek into her raw emotions. She continued, knowing she didn't have long before the answering machine would stop recording. "So I guess what I'm saying in this call to you," she sighed, smiling. "Is thank you for everything Jess, it's appreciated beyond words. You really know how to make a girl feel welcome in the big city, and I'm counting the hours until we meet for dinner next week. No need to respond to this, I just wanted to get this sort of audio thank you card out before I forgot, I suck at sending out thanks around birthday time to the various businesspeople in Hartford who gave me money."  
  
Paris decided to end the call before she lost her nerve. "OK, well I'm done thanking you, so I should end this before I get cut off. Keep doing well in school, and I'll talk to you soon, call me in a few days. Until then Reb, goodbye." The end tone of the answering machine beeped in her ear, and she was relieved that her whole message got out as she hit the red button on her cell to end the call. She folded it back into it's clamshell shape and set it back down on her nightstand, taking a romance novel as she decided to call it a night and crawl into bed. Even with Brianna's call for her to stop reading romance before bed, Paris felt like she deserved it tonight. _I want my dreams to be filled with those images_, she thought to herself as she took the bookmark out and resumed from where she left off in the book at lunch.  
  
Deciding to test out a theory, she turned off her nightstand lamp, leaving her bed in a somewhat muted darkness, with some light coming from Brianna's PC and her lamp on her side of the room. She heard the girl's keyboard clacking and tuned it out as she used the pillows she had to create a prop so she could read with her upper body vertical. Then she cuddled up with her GloWorm, squeezing it until it lit up.  
  
"It still works," she said brightly, noticing she could make out all the words on the page fine with the lamp inside of the toy. When she had her other GloWorm when she was six, Paris would use it as a make-do booklight after lights out so she could get reading in before she fell asleep, or Francisca came in to scold her for staying up past her bedtime, saying 'a growing girl should have a voracious appetite for sleep. You may think it's fun to stay up now, but try thinking that's fun when you're eighteen and cramming for the SAT's in one night'. Still, Paris would stay up reading the classics of childhood, the great Judy Blume and Beverly Cleary being her favorites until she discovered Dickens and the rest of the classics lurking in her father's library two years later.  
  
She started reading the book she held, the parallels between her six year-old self reading _Bezzus & Ramona _and her now at eighteen reading some title she'd forget after the book was finished clear in her mind. She relaxed as she got into a vivid love scene, and immediately replaced the principal characters with herself and a certain Brooklynite living in Venice.  
  
"Thank you very much Jess," she whispered to herself as she cuddled her GloWorm. "For this, and that." The that she spoke about, coming from the book that was sure to inspire some very wicked sleep talking dreams around 4:45 in the morning. _One more dream Brianna, I promise I'm done after that,_ she said to herself with a Mona Lisa-ish smile, settling into her pillows to start the gears in her fantasy center turning for later on.  


* * *

**_To be continued…  
_**


End file.
